To the Wild Country
by trek-grrrl
Summary: A Bill and Pam story. While Ralph's gone, Bill and Pam team up to save something very important to them both. COMPLETE. Please R&R, thanks!
1. Chapter 1

(Story title from the song by John Denver of the same name.)

Chapter One.

Ralph pulled Pam to him, snuggling her under his arm, and stroked her thick brunette hair. He looked down at her, the glow on her face a joy to him, after they'd made love. This'll be the perfect time to break it to her, he thought.

"Pam, something's come up at school that I need to do."

"Hmmmm?" she replied dreamily, already half-asleep.

He cleared his throat and reached for the glass of icewater on his nightstand, sipping it, before he continued. "Um, yeah, I need to go to Vegas for the week."

Pam's eyes flew open and she sat up, completely awake now. "What? When? Why?"

Ralph ticked off the answers on his fingers: "I need to go to Vegas, all next week, for a regional teachers conference."

"ALL next week? When would you have to leave?"

"Sunday morning. All ten of us are flying out together, on a package deal the school district managed to land."

Pam resumed her snuggling position, not saying anything for a few moments. She finally replied, "If it's a package deal, then you HAVE to leave on Sunday? You can't wait two days till I finish up this case I'm working on, so we can go together?"

"Naw, we have to all go together. It's already been booked and I've got my ticket."

"Oh." Pam was quiet again, then said, "Well, why don't I meet up with you in Vegas? This case has to close by Tuesday, so I could head out Wednesday morning."

Pam sensed Ralph tense, and when he didn't reply immediately, she knew he was thinking of some excuse why she should NOT join him in Las Vegas.

"Um, well, I don't think that'd be a good idea, Pam. Nobody else is bringing spouses or significant others, and I don't think I should either. One of the main points of this conference is team-building; I wouldn't be able to spend ANY time with you, and..."

"Oh, never mind," Pam snapped. She flung the covers off, drew on the light robe she kept at Ralph's house, and stomped to the kitchen.

When Ralph didn't follow behind her, Pam was certain she'd read Ralph's "vibes" right: He doesn't WANT me to go! She took out a Fresca, cracked it open and swigged down half of it before stopping for breath. She gasped, breathing deep, and felt the resulting belch come up. Her eyes watered, not only from the fizz of the soda.

And still Ralph hadn't followed her to the kitchen, apologizing or making excuses or even asking, What's wrong?

She returned to his bedroom, standing in the door, glaring at him.

"What?" he asked in all innocence.

"YOU, that's what! You don't even want me to go, do you?"

"Pamela, I told you, it'd be tough to manage both the conference and giving you attention, and nobody ELSE is bringing..."

"I heard you the first time!" she exclaimed, raising her voice so it rang around the big room. She moved to the curtained window, pulling the heavy drapes aside to look out at the night. Friday night, and he's gone Sunday morning for a week. The two had rarely been separated so long; it always pained Ralph when Pam had to fly to another location in her role as an attorney. Neither of them liked having a long-distance relationship.

Ralph, sensing Pam crawling into a deep sulk, patted her side of his bed and said, "C'mon, Pam, come back to bed. This is something I'm already signed up to do, after all, I can't change my mind at this stage of the game."

She turned sharply to him. "'Signed up?' So you VOLUNTEERED for this?"

"Yes, I did," he said unashamedly. "You know I'm always going on at school about trying new ideas, new techniques, things I learned in college. Which was a lot more recent than some of the others going! We younger teachers are going to have a chance to use what we learned in our Education classes so recently, finally! And hopefully get a chance to incorporate that in the school administration and curriculum when we return." He paused, as he saw reluctant understanding settling on Pam's face. "If it's any consolation, at the time, I didn't know that it wouldn't be feasible for you to come along. I really didn't."

Ralph was relieved to see a small smile cross Pam's face. She returned to the bedside, slipped off her robe and crawled under the light blanket.

"C'mere," Ralph said, putting his arm around her, drawing her close for a kiss. When they separated, he smiled down into her lovely grey eyes. "How 'bout tomorrow, it'll be Pam Day, 'kay? You and me, that's it. No suit, no Maxwell, nothing but my utmost devotion to your every whim. It's supposed to be gorgeous, so maybe we can picnic at the beach or something."

Pam relaxed against him, resting her head on his neck and shoulder. He felt her nod, and she said, "That sounds fun, honey. Okay, tomorrow'll be my day, then we'll get you all packed and I can drop you at the airport Sunday morning." She sighed, "I only wish I could go, but maybe it's just as well. With it being high Summer, Vegas'll be what, about 120 in the shade?"

Ralph chuckled, "Yeah, if I'm lucky! Speaking of lucky, I don't even know if we'll have a chance to hit any casinos. They've got a full program for us all week, and part of the team-building might include being together the whole time, day and night."

Pam remained quiet, and Ralph pulled back enough to look at her once more. Good, she's not mad at me any more, he was glad to observe. She's already almost asleep!

"Pam?" he asked quietly.

"Hmmmm?"

"So, you didn't want to, um..."

"Hmmmm, no, honey, I'm too tired to make love again, I'm sorry. Catch me in the morning."

Ralph chuckled as he reached to turn the lamp off. "Will do."

(A/N: The idea of sending Ralph to a teachers conference in Vegas is from my fellow Bill Maxwell fan, MrsMaxwell. Thanks, MrsM!)


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two.

Pam was startled from reviewing a briefing by a pounding on Ralph's front door. She looked through the gauzy curtain of the living room picture window, and saw the outline of Bill's latest government-issued Dodge Diplomat.

"Open up, FBI! This is a bust!" came Bill's happy exclamation from the porch.

Pam laughed and ran to the door, and saw Bill standing there, hands full and a big Sunday paper tucked under his arm.

"That's so old, Bill! You're going to make Ralph's neighbors think this is a den of iniquity if you keep that up."

"Here, take this," he said, handing her a box of doughnuts. He followed her in, his other hand holding up a cardboard tray with big cups of coffee.

Pam quickly set the doughnuts down and took the coffees from Bill, and he flung the thick newspaper on the couch.

"Well, you keep leaving your little Beetle out there alla time. They already think it's a den of iniquity, Counselor! Don't you have a home?"

"Shush, you're not my brother," she said, looking over the three coffees. Or were they coffee? She smelled chocolate of all things. "What'd you bring, hot chocolate? In the middle of Summer?"

Bill laughed and went to the tray, removing a cup to hand to Pam then taking one for himself. "Naw, these are MOCHAS, Counselor! Practically straight from Seattle. One of my coworkers came back after spending a month there, on a case, and told us about mocha lattes, as he called them. Taste it, you'll love it!"

Bill watched Pam as she carefully blew on the hot beverage, and their eyes locked as she took a tentative sip. He wasn't disappointed when he saw her eyes open wide with pleasure, the smile moving across her face.

"This is FANTASTIC, Bill!" She took another sip, still careful of the heat, and another. She couldn't stop, it was so delicious.

She watched him take a long draught on his own mocha. "Careful, Bill, these are HOT!"

He swallowed and laughed. "I've got an asbestos-lined mouth now, from all the years drinking bad FBI coffee at the office and on stake-out. This is nothin'."

They both stood in the middle of the living room, not talking; they had this delicious beverage to chug down!

After a few more sips during this shared moment, Bill set his mocha down and reached for the doughnuts. "Here, eat a chocolate doughnut along with it, it's great! I know you dames love chocolate, after all."

Pam huffed into her coffee cup, taking one long sip before grabbing a doughnut. "Dames, Maxwell?"

"Yeah, yeah," came his usual reply.

The two sat on the couch, coffees and doughnuts in hand, when Ralph came out of the bathroom.

"Okay, honey, ready to go. Oh, hey, Bill!"

Bill looked up at him; Ralph was wearing a light summer suit and comfortable shoes, and carrying a travel bag on his shoulder.

"Where're we going?"

"Well, I'M going to Las Vegas, Bill! Don't know where YOU'RE going." He went to his room to get the rest of his luggage.

Bill followed him in, to give him a hand with the two big suitcases. "Oh yeah, that's this week? Hope we don't get any juicy scenarios cropping up this week while you and the suit are gone."

The two men, each with a suitcase, returned to the living room. Bill went to the third mocha and handed it to Ralph, who absently sipped on it.

Before either Bill or Pam could say something, Ralph exclaimed, "What IS this, Bill? Wow!" He took a few more sips of the cooled beverage, as his friend and girlfriend watched, sipping their own cooled mochas.

"That's a mocha latte, Ralph. Buddy of mine at the Bureau introduced 'em to us when he came back from Seattle. We discovered a little shop near the Federal Building that makes 'em! Great, ain't it?"

"It's delicious!"

"Here, eat a doughnut with it." Bill handed him a chocolate cake doughnut, and Ralph sat down to enjoy his quick breakfast.

"Hmmm, wonderful!" he said around his mouthful of food. He motioned to Bill as he washed it down with more mocha. "Bill, speaking of the suit, I'm not taking it with me, it's in its box in my closet. Can't imagine why I'd need it, after all, with a bunch of teachers and administrators."

Bill went to the paper he'd thrown on the couch, picking out the Sports section. "Yeah, sounds like Yawnsville to me!"

"Lemme read that when you're done, Bill. I don't know about Yawnsville. I told Pam this'd be a good chance for us younger teachers to get to use what we learned more recently in college when we get back."

Bill looked up. "Younger teachers? Who's going with you, any cute girls?" He winked at his partner, and jerked his head toward Pam.

Ralph's startled look, and brief flash of anger, wasn't lost on Bill. Ralph glared at his partner before turning to Pam. "Uh, Pam, it's not LIKE that, we're going to WORK!"

Pam's grey eyes sparked as she looked between the two men. Bill had a good point, that she hadn't thought to ask about in their Friday night bedtime conversation: younger teachers?

"Just WHO is going with you, Ralph?" she demanded.

"Pam, it's a big mix. The admin wanted a variety, we've got old, young, men, women, you know. It's no big deal, really it's not!"

She glared at him a moment longer, then shrugged. Nothing you can do now any way, Pam, she thought.

"All right, all right. I'm going to go with you to the gate, then, to see you off. Come on, you two he-men get the suitcases and I'll get your shoulder bag, Ralph, and the mochas."

Bill handed her his newspaper. "Here, carry this too. I can read it on the way and Ralph can take the Sports section with him on the plane."

"You're coming with us to the airport, Bill?" Ralph asked as the two led the way out. Pam took up the rear, pulling the door behind her and locking it with the key Ralph had given her.

"Sure, why not? Nothin' else to do this morning."

On the long drive to LAX, Bill had his nose in his paper, but looked up at the young couple every so often. The unusual silence between Pam and Ralph was quite evident to a man who knew both so well. They weren't engaging in the usual drivel, as Bill often called it teasingly. The tension was almost palpible. Bill had to say something.

"So, Ralph, who do you like in the next Angels game?"

"Well, duh Bill, the Angels, of course!"

"I dunno, Ralph, I would've said that too, but the Seattle Mariners, they're doing pretty well this season. Okay, better than usual, maybe not 'pretty well.' That DH, Edgar Martinez, he's hot this year."

Pam sighed and gazed out the window as the two men went into their Sports-zen mode. She'd heard it all before, the way the two could close out the world. It didn't take long, early in their acquaintance then friendship, to discover a common love: Baseball, and by association all sports. Their droning conversation, at least as she heard it, lasted the rest of the way to LAX.

"Bill, why don't you stay in the car? I'm in a fifteen-minute zone, and didn't wanna leave it here to get towed. The keys are in the ignition if you have to move it."

"Okay, partner, be safe, learn lots, don't fall asleep during what I'm sure will be FASCINATING lectures! Here's the Sports section to entertain you during your long flight."

"Thanks, pard. You be good now while I'm gone this week!"

Bill chuckled as the two walked to the nearest entrance, dragging the luggage behind them. He turned to the regional news, of events up and down the US Pacific coast. He frowned when he noted one headline from the state of Oregon.

It didn't take Pam and Ralph long to reach his gate once they checked his two big cases. There was already a small crowd around the counter, people raising their voices and gesticulating with their hands in agitation.

"That's my party, Pam, I wonder what's wrong," Ralph said, scowling at the mayhem as the two approached.

The young man at the counter was talking to Ralph's fellow teacher, Kathryn Mathers. "I'm sorry, miss, but we can't get you all checked in till all ten of you are here! And we're waiting for one more, a Mr. Hinkley."

"I'm Hinkley," Ralph said, raising his hand to get the man's attention.

The other nine at the counter turned as one, and sighed in relief as Ralph closed the distance.

Kathryn said, "Whew, Ralph, am I glad to see you! We're leaving in 30 minutes, and they wouldn't let us board till the whole party was here!"

The pretty blonde turned and smiled at Pam. "Thanks for getting him to us in time, Miss, uh...?"

"Davidson. Everyone, this is my friend Pam Davidson. She's going to drive my car back home for the week and wanted to see me off."

Pam turned a glare on Ralph, thinking, FRIEND? But she didn't say anything. She knew she was guilty of that herself, introducing Ralph as her "friend" as she'd done before. She turned an even icier glare on Miss Mathers when the young woman stood alongside Ralph, her shoulder rubbing against his own. She nudged him, smiling, her blue eyes twinkling as she looked into his.

Ralph shook himself from her magical gaze, and glanced at Pam. He moved closer to his girlfriend.

"Well, Pam, I guess we're ready to shove off, they've just been waiting for me." He gave her a peck on the cheek and turned to the other teachers, Kathryn following closely behind.

The young man at the counter handed them their boarding passes. Kathryn glanced at hers, then Ralph's, and exclaimed, "Ooh, they've got you and me together, Ralph! Do you mind if I take the window seat? I love to fly and look at the scenery going by."

He smiled at her, "Sure, Kathryn, it's okay."

The ten of them, carry-on bags in hand, walked to the gate. Ralph didn't give a second look to Pam, his entire attention being focused on his co-workers. He'd gone into that "teacher mode" Pam had seen him do before at school functions; he was in his element and was relishing the attention of the laughing, jostling small crowd as they ribbed him for being the last to arrive.

She stood silently as they all disappeared down the jetway. Friend? Window seat? Pretty blonde? It didn't take long, and she was seething from all of the scenarios cropping up in her mind. I've been listening to Maxwell too long, and his damned scenarios, she thought.

By the time she returned to Bill and the station wagon, her legs and feet hurt from stomping in her growing anger and jealousy.

She looked through the open window of the passenger side. "Maxwell, you'd better drive, I'm too pissed to do it."

When he didn't reply, his attention entirely on the paper he was reading, Pam yelled, "BILL! You drive, I'm too mad to!"

He looked up, and Pam was surprised to see his brown eyes flashing in anger. Her entire demeanour changed. "What's wrong, Bill?"

He flicked the newspaper, and in a rough voice said, "THIS, those MORONS in D.C.! Look what they wanna do! And soon, too!"

Under a big bold headline that asked, "Is It Too Late?" the subheader said, "Two Major Development Corporations To Purchase Federal Lands Along The McKenzie River."


	3. Chapter 3

"To the Wild Country"

Lyrics and Music by John Denver

(I changed Alaska to Oregon, to fit in with the story.)

There are times I fear I lose myself, I don't know who I am,  
I get caught up in the struggle and the strain.

With my back against a stone wall, my finger in the dam,  
I'm losing strength and going down again.

When I take a look around me, my eyes can't find the sun,  
there's nothing wild as far as I can see.

Then my heart turns to Oregon and freedom on the run,  
I can hear her spirit calling me.

To the mountains, I can rest there. To the rivers, I will be strong.  
To the forests, I'll find peace there. To the wild country, where I belong.

Oh, I know sometimes I worry on worldly ways and means  
and I can see the future killing me.

On a misbegotten highway of prophesies and dreams,  
a road to nowhere and eternity.

And I know it's just changes and mankind marching on,  
I know we can't live in yesterday.

But compared to what we're losing and what it means to me,  
I'd give my life and throw the rest away.

To the mountains, I can rest there. To the rivers, I will be strong.  
To the forests, I'll find peace there. To the wild country, where I belong.

Chapter Three.

"Oh God, Bill," was all Pam could say. She knew how he felt about that area of the lovely state of Oregon, she knew he hoped to retire there some day. To think all that beautiful land was about to be snatched by big corporations, surely first for clear-cutting the forests then turning it into developed real estate, pained Pam; she could only imagine how it was impacting her friend Bill Maxwell.

Bill appreciated her sympathy. "Pam, we've got to DO something!"

The simple fact that he'd called her Pam, something he rarely did, made her realize that her petty gripes with Ralph were irrelevant to the personal Hell he was going through.

Pam motioned to Bill to get up front, and she went around to the driver's side. He was too upset to drive; she'd calmed down enough to manage the busy LAX throughways.

"Here, get up here and we'll go somewhere and hammer out a scenario," she said. He chuckled in response, as she'd expected, enjoying her using his favorite word.

He sighed as he threw the paper in back. "Okay, how 'bout the airport lookout? You know how to get there, don't you?"

"Yeah, we'll talk there, see if we can figure something out."

It didn't take long to drive around the perimeter of the airport, and Pam parked the station wagon facing the busy runways. The parking lot was empty, being Sunday morning.

"We shoulda stopped for some cokes or somethin'," Bill said, as he leaned back more into the seat. The two sat quietly, enjoying the solitude, watching planes landing and taking off for a few moments.

Pam wondered if one of them had been Ralph going on his week-long trip with that Kathryn person, and the earlier anger and jealousy crept back to her conscious thoughts.

"Yeah," she said curtly.

Bill turned to her, and asked, "So what were you pissed about when you came back to the car, any way? I was so engrossed in that article I forgot to ask ya."

"Ralph."

Bill sighed in exasperation. "Oh God, what'd he do now?"

Pam remained silent for a few moments, then said, "Well... okay, nothing, really. It's just..." She couldn't finish.

"Just?" Bill prompted.

"I don't know, this attitude I'm picking up from him, about this trip. Then this blonde bimbo is practically oozing all over him, and he introduces me as his FRIEND of all things, and... and..."

"And he's being a typical guy, right?"

Pam smiled, turning to face Bill. He was always surprising her when he made these astute observations. "Yes, he's being a typical guy, you're right, Bill."

"'Course I'm right. Don't worry your pretty little head about him, Counselor."

Ah, he's back to Counselor, Pam thought. Good, he must've calmed down a bit.

Pam reached behind her for the paper Bill had tossed, and found the article from Oregon. Bill watched her as she quickly read it, the frown on her face deepening as she went. By the time she was finished, she too was indignantly angry as Bill had been.

"This... this is CRIMINAL, Bill, they can't do this!"

"Sure they can, Pam, that's the problem! Look at that: Department of the Interior has released the acreage for sale to the highest bidders. That son of a bitch Watts, it's HIM! I mean, I respect our President, I voted for old Ronnie and all, but sometimes, sometimes..."

Pam finished the thought for him: "Sometimes you wonder if your loyalties are a little misplaced, don't you, Bill?"

"Well, yeah. That's the beauty of our country: I have the right to disagree, and dammit, I'm disagreeing! We've gotta do something, Davidson!"

Pam set the paper in her lap, and frowned. She was gazing off into the middle distance, so Bill didn't bother her. He could practically hear the legal gears grinding in Pam's brain as she pondered several avenues they could explore in trying to stop this land deal.

Finally, she said, "We can't do anything down here, Bill. We'll have to go to Oregon, deal directly with all parties involved. Land sales such as this are available for viewing by the public. Legally, all aspects of the sale, from start to finish, HAVE to be there for all to see. How 'bout we head up there, Tuesday evening, and Wednesday morning we can start snooping around."

"We can't leave sooner, like TODAY?"

Pam sighed. "No, I can't, Bill. That's one of the things Ralph and I were fighting about. I have a case that's closing on Tuesday, so there's no way I could go sooner. If I could get away, I'd be on that plane with Ralph, whether he liked it or not."

"Boy, you two are really fighting, huh?" he asked with concern.

"HE didn't want me to come along, didn't want me to join him later this week. And I am left behind while he's having fun and 'team building' with that blonde dingbat!"

"Whoa, calm down, Counselor. Let's focus on this during the week, and when Ralph comes back, you two can kiss and make up if you have to. 'Kay? In the meantime, though, while you're working on your case, I'm gonna pull some favors owed me to switch around my scheduled vacation time. By Tuesday, I'll be packed and ready to go. Want me to handle the flight arrangements?"

She handed him one of her credit cards. "Sure, if you can, Bill! You're going to be MY third-string back-up utility man this week, while I play mouthpiece for the Earth?"

He laughed out loud at that one, happy that he had Pam Davidson in his corner for this fight. "You bet, Counselor, but don't breathe a WORD of this to Ralph, he'll never let me live it down! ME making travel arrangements for YOU!"

"Well, I trust my secretary Bill with my credit card, I guess I can trust my third-string back-up FBI agent Bill with it too."

Bill scowled, which of course had no effect on Pam. "All right, Davidson, don't lose yourself in the moment. You get your case done, and Tuesday afternoon we can ship out. Make sure you've got your wilderness clothes and fishing gear ready. We may be going up there to deal with these bozos, but I figgered we can get some good fishin' and campin' in too. You won't believe this place, Pam, you really won't!"

By early Tuesday afternoon, Pam had wrapped up her case. She looked at her watch and smiled. Cool, with three hours to spare! She picked up her phone to call Bill.

"Maxwell," came the response.

She whispered into the phone, "You ready, Maxwell? Operation: McKenzie is underway!"

He laughed and whispered back, "Shhhh, you'll have them thinking this is a REAL gov'ment operation, Davidson!"

She answered, again whispering, "Have you made all the arrangements?"

"Yes, ma'am, all ready to go. Let's meet for a quick dinner and get to the airport."

Pam looked at her watch. "All right, Robinson, let's synchronize our watches, on my mark... it'll be 2:34 exactly... 3, 2, 1, MARK!"

"Got it, Scotty! I'll meet you at your place, 19 minutes!"

"Last one there's a rotten egg!" she yelled into the phone, then slammed down the handset, grabbed her bag and ran out the door. She paused long enough to tell Bill, her secretary, that she was going to be gone the rest of the week, she'd already cleared it with the senior partners, and he only had time to wave at her retreating back.

Pam busted out laughing as she approached her house; Bill's Dodge Diplomat was approaching from the opposite direction. The two drove directly toward one another, as if they were playing Chicken, and at the last second they both slammed on the brakes, pulling alongside the curb. Their cars stopped with mere inches to spare.

"Rotten egg, Robinson!" Pam yelled as she was the first one to get out of the car.

Bill laughed as he climbed out on the street side. "No fair, Scotty, you've got the homefield advantage!"

She went to him, putting her arm around his back. He put his arm over her shoulder, and she turned to him, smiling. "You know, it's weird, but you DO look like Robinson!"

"And you don't look ANYTHING like Scotty!" he laughed, smiling down at her. "You can be as funny as Scotty sometimes, though, Counselor."

He followed her into the house after she'd unlocked the door, and looked around. "Aren't you packed yet, Scotty?"

She went to her closet and pulled out a suitcase and backpack. "Are those going to be our codenames, Robinson, while we're on this little operation?"

He laughed and said, "You know, that might not be such a bad idea. You being a lawyer, you probably know I can't OFFICIALLY get involved with this! If I go up there and start making waves, and they learn I'm a Fed, I'm in deep doo-doo, you know that."

"True, true," she said, getting another chuckle out of Bill.

Pam looked him up and down critically, frowning.

"What?"

"I think you need to lose the suit, Robinson. It screams, 'Hey, I'm a Federal agent!' all over."

"Darn, I left my tennis whites at the dry cleaners!"

They both laughed, picturing Bill Maxwell in a tennis outfit. Like that'd ever happen.

"You've got your stuff in the car, right? Change into a t-shirt and jeans. Wear an overshirt to cover up the holster, like you do when it's hot out and you don't want to wear a jacket."

Bill went to the door, and motioned to Pam to get packing while he changed into something more casual and less obvious. By the time he returned from the bathroom, she'd thrown all her gear into the suitcase and backpack.

"Ready, Kell?" she asked.

"Ah, the wonderfulness of your spontaneity, Scotty," Bill said.

"I watched WAY too much of that show as a kid, Kell! Sounds like you did, too," Pam said as she hefted her backpack. Bill took the suitcase and they went to his Dodge.

"I did, but I wasn't a kid. C'mon, I'll drive to the airport so it doesn't look like your house has been abandoned, Counselor."

"Sounds good. Where do you wanna eat? When's our flight?"

"My usual burger place. 6:35."

"Right. Let's rock!"

Bill loaded her luggage, then remembered something. "Where's your fishin' gear, Counselor?"

"Oh, hang on a minute!" She ran back to the house, grabbed her favorite fishing hat, pole and tackle box, and returned quickly. "Whew, sure don't want to forget this, if the fishing there is as great as you said!"

Bill rearranged all their gear so they could get through Security at the airport, and the two were on their way.

They arrived at LAX after their quick dinner, and Bill secured his firearm and holster into the luggage to be checked. The two were continuing their game of "I Spy," laughing and quoting snippets of the show, as they made their way to the gate.

Even though their purpose for going to Oregon was serious, Pam and Bill were both enjoying one another's company, something they'd rarely had a chance to do without Ralph around. Sure, they both loved Ralph in their own ways, but this was proving to be a good bonding time for two-thirds of the Team with the Suit.

Once they'd settled into their seats, Pam took the article they'd read on Sunday out of her pocket and re-read it.

"Do we have a battle plan, Scotty?"

"Sure do, Robinson. Tomorrow morning, I go to the county records office and ask to see the public documents. They'll hem and haw and stall with me, I know, so I'm going to be ready. I've done this route before, when working on closing real estate cases for clients, so I know how to handle it. What YOU can do is nose around the town, here," she pointed to the map she'd brought of the 68-mile McKenzie River corridor. "Walterville. Seems to be the major 'city' for the McKenzie area."

He leaned closer, peering over her shoulder somewhat. "Yeah, that's the biggest town."

He turned to look at her, startled by the twinkle in her grey eyes. God, she's gorgeous, he couldn't help thinking. As he often did. He cleared his throat and sat up straight, facing forward into the seat before him.

Bill leaned a bit to his left, so he could whisper to Pam, "I was thinking, you wanna camp and fish, instead of finding a hotel or cabins? We could get a rental truck, load up at the local Mom & Pop, go rent some gear and get a feel for what we're trying to save there. I bet we'll find some others doing the same as we are, going there to fight this land deal."

Pam leaned too, almost touching Bill's ear with her mouth, and said, "If I didn't know any better, Robinson, I'd swear you were going hippie on me!"

He turned abruptly, facing her once more, not caring that their mouths were mere centimeters apart. Pam got the response she wanted: righteous indignity.

"HIPPIE?" he asked in a stage whisper. "You don't need to be insulting, Scotty!"

Pam's heart banged in her ribcage as she looked deep into Bill's brown eyes, his indignation not disguising the sparkle of humor he was really feeling. He's enjoying this, she realized, a LOT! Our little I Spy game, and me calling him a hippie.

"Well, look, Kell," she began, ticking off several points on her fingers. "You're worried about the environment. You want to go camp in the wild, getting back to Momma Nature as it were. You want to find other PROTESTORS who are fighting THE MAN on this deal. What does that sound like to you?"

Bill flopped back in his seat, stunned. "Holy crap, you're right. I sound like a damned HIPPIE!" He turned in desperation, back to Pam. "Scotty, you gotta understand. Okay, I hate hippies, you know that. But I love that river, I love those trees and those mountains. And I hate what the GOVERNMENT is allowing to be done to it. All right, those are all hippiesque qualities, I freely admit it. But DO NOT, under any circumstances, call me a hippie!"

"Peacenik? Tree hugger? Pagan?"

"Lawsey," Bill said in defeat. "Okay, have it your way: I'm Robinson the Hippie this week, you satisfied? Maybe if I'm traveling incognito, I can even fool myself."

Pam leaned over the seat arm, separating the two of them, and whispered, "You be Kell, and I'll be, um... Pam?"

Jesus, what's going on here? Bill thought, stunned. It's almost as if she's FLIRTING with me!

He said, in a deep quiet voice, "All right..." and he paused dramatically, "Pam."

Pam smiled, and looked between Bill's eyes and mouth, back and forth, and said, "Long as we're doing this little clandestine operation, why not play a little spy game, after all? Kinda like when I said that about playing cops & robbers, Kell, now it's spies and the Man."

"Would you stop calling us that?"

"'Us?' What do you mean 'us,' Robinson?"

"Oh yeah, I forgot," Bill said. He was still a bit flustered from Pam's closeness. Having her dark thick hair rubbing along his shoulder and neck wasn't helping, either.

The two of them relaxed back into their seats. Pam, having the window seat, turned to look out at the ocean. Bill closed his eyes, running what had just transpired through his mind. Naw, I'm picking up wrong signals, he thought, wondering if Pam had indeed been flirting. It felt almost like that time in her boss's beach home, when they were escorting Starlett Wilde to Los Angeles and talking about Ralph.

Bill gave his head a quick shake, and Pam turned to look at him. He stayed relaxed back, eyes closed still, so he didn't see her staring at him. She was also wondering what had happened, why she'd suddenly spoken in such a sultry fashion to her friend, why her heart thumped so startlingly in her chest when he turned to face her, his brown eyes filling her vision.

A thought came to her, unbidden, He's got the most gorgeous mouth. What the hell? Where'd that come from? She had to fight the urge to reach out and touch that mouth with her fingertips, but she couldn't draw her gaze away. Pam looked up and down the length of Bill, from his tousled grayish-brown hair to his big feet. The seats were a bit cramped for a man of his height, and his legs were sprawled before him, his left leg leaning into her as he relaxed into sleep. The black t-shirt, now with overshirt removed, was snug, as were the matching black jeans. He looks so good in black, she couldn't help thinking. Very good.

And those jeans. And legs.

Dammit, Davidson, she scolded herself, STOP IT! She collapsed dramatically back into her seat, the motion shaking the leg Bill was leaning against her. He jumped awake, and tried to straighten out his long legs. He only managed to jam his knee into the tray table before him.

"Ouch, what?" he asked, confused. He looked at Pam.

"Sorry, Kell, I didn't mean to wake you," she said.

He smiled, remembering their little game-turned-Operation: McKenzie. "Oh yeah, Robinson, right."

They both, again, relaxed back into their seats, this time truly dozing until they heard the announcement of final approach.

They quickly located a rental agency at the Portland airport, got a rugged Jeep and started the journey to Walterville. Once there, it didn't take long to load up on camping gear, groceries and other necessities for camping in the woods, by the river that Bill loved so much.

They parked their Jeep at the campsite they'd chosen and began to unload all their gear. One of the first things Bill did, of course, was don his holster and firearm.

"Robinson, you sure that's a good idea?" Pam asked as they dragged the equipment to the perfect spot.

"Always, Scotty. Oops, Pam."

He surveyed the area, and pointed to two likely spots for their tents.

"There and there, pick the spot you want. Both will be near enough to the campfire at night. Before we go into town to start Operation: McKenzie, maybe we can get some fishin' in, come daybreak?"

"That'll be great, Bill! Here, help me get this set up, and get a fire going. I'm going to go change and get ready for bed, I'm beat!"

Within the hour, two tents were set up, side-by-side, and a fire was roaring in the stone ring in the center of their little campsite. The sun was settling behind a nearby hill. Soon after, the dusk rolled in, stopping by for a short time, and was gone.

The sounds of the night, the crackling of the fire, the brilliance of the starlight, all filled the eyes and ears of Bill and Pam. They'd sat on a log in front of their respective tents, shoulder-to-shoulder, poking at the fire with long sturdy sticks.

The silence between the two was getting unbearable. Both were wondering if they should ask the other: What happened earlier? Pam was reluctant to mention it. Bill was most certainly not going to! He was sure he'd misinterpreted what had happened, being unaware of Pam's scrutiny of his form while he slept.

Pam, unable to remain without saying SOMETHING, finally broke the silence. She bumped her shoulder against Bill's, and said, "Okay, Bill, I'm turning in." She deliberately broke from their little game of I Spy. That seemed to be impacting her too much, the way she was viewing and reacting to this man. Calling him something other than "Bill" was making it seem almost like it was all right, that this was fantasy, imagination, not that she had a boyfriend in Las Vegas, a boyfriend who was unaware that she was alone, in the woods, with his handsome best friend.

Guilt drove her to her tent and sleeping bag, but it sure wasn't going to drive what was going through her thoughts away. Bill's reply of "Good night, Davidson" rang in her ears. She shed her outer clothes, the night being too warm for them, and crawled into her sleeping bag. Her last thoughts and visions, as she settled into slumber, were of a tall, slender Bill Maxwell, wearing tennis whites and powerfully slamming a serve to her on a clay tennis court.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four.

Bill Maxwell crept around Pam Davidson's tent, stopping where he knew her head was on the other side; he could hear her muttering in her sleep.

He whispered to her, "Scotty, come on, the Office needs us in Walterville, Oregon! We've got our next assignment!" He covered his mouth to quell the laugh that was begging to come out.

His voice penetrated Pam's dream, and he heard her moan louder, then she said something that sounded like "Kell? That you?"

"None other, dollface, c'mon, up and at'em!" He thumped on the tent wall to get her attention.

Bill thought she was awake when she said, "Darn it, Kelly!"

Huh? he thought. He cleared his throat and said, "C'mon, Counselor, get up! There're fish out there waiting to be our breakfast!"

Pam, seeing Kelly in her dream, wondered why he'd be calling her Counselor. How'd he know she was an attorney? Fish? Breakfast? In her dream, she ran to the net to meet Robinson, holding her hand out to shake his, conceding to his winning yet another tennis match.

"Great game, Kelly," she said out loud. In her dream, she couldn't help looking the handsome man up and down, his tanned sweaty skin, the flush of health in his face, both serving to intrigue her. "Hmmm," she moaned out loud again.

Bill realized she was still asleep and dreaming an unknown dream. He thought she was continuing their I Spy game.

"PAM, come on, let's get to the fishin' before we head to town!" he said louder.

That did it, and Pam jumped awake, looking around her tent in confusion for a moment. "Bill?"

"Who're you expecting, Kelly Robinson?"

"I wish," Pam muttered. She reached for her discarded overshirt, shivering in the early-morning chill. She slipped the shirt and her sweatpants on and crept out of her tent on her hands and knees. She was startled when she saw Bill come around from the other side of her tent, dressed in his fishing gear and ready to go.

"How long have you been up, Bill?"

"Long enough to get the coffee fixed. Go get you some, get your gear and join me down yonder," he said, pointing to a clearing at the shoreline. "I don't think we'll need waders today, let's just fish from shore, see what we can get. If we don't have anything by 8:00, we can head to town and buy breakfast there."

"Sounds good, Bill, I'll be there in a little bit."

Pam joined him at the river's edge about fifteen minutes later, feeling much better after sucking down her first cup of coffee and freshening up somewhat. She got her hook baited, threw on her fishing hat and stood close to Bill. When she expertly cast her line, he nodded at her, smiling in admiration. Girl knows how to fish, he thought.

The two were quiet, as fishermen tend to be, enjoying the sound of the rushing river and the early-morning chorus of wildlife as the world began to wake up around them. Every so often, one or the other would spy an animal coming to the river for a morning drink and point it out. The flocks of birds coming to the water made them laugh, the way they'd go to the water's edge on sandy shores and take their morning baths, splashing and fluttering about to wet their wings.

"Look, Pam!" Bill exclaimed as two Bald Eagles flew overhead, going east toward a small river beach and landing. "They're fishing for breakfast too!"

They watched the eagles for a time, and smiled when they saw the bigger of the two launch herself into the water and nab a big fish. She brought it to the beach she was patrolling with her mate, and the two began to tear into their meal.

"Probably the female that caught it," Bill pointed out. "Birds of prey, the larger of the pair is usually the female. Eagles mate for life, you know."

"I didn't know you knew so much about Nature, Bill."

"Oh sure, this is near my favorite spot, I practically know these critters by name!"

Pam's line began to tug, and she and Bill yelped in surprise.

"You got it, Counselor, easy, easy!" Bill encouraged.

"I know, Bill, I know! I grew up fishing, Dad and Mom and I used to go whenever we could."

"All right, I'll shut up, I'm just excited is all."

Within minutes, Pam had a trout in her net. Bill's own trout wasn't too far behind, as if the two had been traveling up the river in a school.

He proudly held his fish up, exclaiming, "Breakfast is served!"

"Is one enough for each of us, Bill?" Pam asked, her face flushed with the excitement of landing two fish so quickly.

"Sure, how 'bout you start making the biscuits and I'll get these two ready for the frying pan! Just grab the biscuit dough, add water and throw it in the pan. Campfire biscuits are the best, no muss, no fuss."

She laughed at his enthusiasm as the two grabbed their gear, picked up any litter that may've fallen from their tackle boxes, and walked the short distance back to the campsite. They both set to their tasks, not talking, comfortably silent. Every so often, Pam would look at Bill and the continual sensation of how very much he resembled her dream Kelly kept creeping in.

She shook her head out of her reverie, telling herself, STOP it, Pam! Her thoughts turned to Ralph, and she tried to imagine what he was doing right now. Sleeping, I hope. ALONE, she emphasized to herself, reinforcing that conviction.

She went to Bill with the pan of biscuits and set it on the big iron rack over the fire, next to the pan of sizzling fish.

"Bill, I want to call Ralph when we get to town, see how the conference is going for him."

"Okay, you do that and I'm going to start walking about town, get a feel for anything that's going on. With Walterville being the biggest town in the McKenzie area, I'm sure if other, um, protestors are going to be here it'll be there. Well, you know what I mean."

"I'll call Ralph, then get to the county office like I said yesterday."

Bill winked at her and said, "Remember, if anyone asks, I'm Robinson, not Maxwell."

He didn't understand the blush that moved up her neck and face when she said, "Uh, yeah, Robinson. Right."

"Not 'right,' Pam, it's 'true, true!' C'mon, get with the game!"

The conspiratorial wink and the upturned smirk of his mouth caught Pam once again, and she stared into Bill's brown eyes, eyes that were more and more beginning to captivate her.

"Long as we remember it's a game," she said quietly, almost as if she was talking to herself.

"Huh?" Bill asked, confused by her stare.

Pam shook herself from his gaze and turned to tend to the biscuits. "Um, nothing, BILL," she said, emphasizing his name more for herself than for him.

"You all right, Counselor? You've been actin' kinda weird this morning."

She poked at the biscuits with her spatula and said, "Um, just thinking hard is all, Bill, about this and Ralph, and, um..."

She couldn't continue. Bill, who knew both Pam and Ralph very well, was realizing something HAD happened yesterday between them. He didn't miss how flustered she was acting around him, hadn't missed the surreptitious glances she'd been giving him all morning. He'd been playing it off, once again assuming he was misinterpreting the signals he was getting from her, but now he wasn't too sure.

"This?" he asked quietly. "As in me and you camping together, with no Ralph and no suit around?"

Pam blushed but met his gaze. "Yes, pretty much. I was feeling kind of guilty and wanted to call Ralph and talk to him."

Bill's soft chuckle startled Pam. "Counselor, you don't have anything to worry about, you're safe as can be here with me."

Bill shifted almost uncomfortably when Pam didn't reply for a few moments, her grey eyes drilling into him as if she was considering her response.

"Yes, but are you safe here with me?" she asked quietly.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five.

Pam expected Bill to turn away nervously, clearing his throat and jumping up, as he was prone to do when things got a little too personal for him. He surprised her, as usual, with another reaction.

"I don't know, am I?" he asked, his voice rough as he stared at her, as she was staring at him.

Neither of them spoke for a moment. The sizzling of the biscuits caught Pam's attention.

"Damn, they're going to burn!" she yelped, digging underneath them with her spatula. She was happy to see they were turning a golden brown, not torched as she'd feared.

Her exclamation broke the spell they were moving into, and Bill laughed with the release of tension. He used his own spatula to tend to the fish, and the food was all done at the same time.

Bill and Pam didn't mention again, that morning, what had transpired. It was almost as if they were trying too hard, working together on breakfast as FRIENDS, they kept telling themselves. They were here for a REASON, for Operation: McKenzie, as Pam had dubbed their little trip and effort.

After enjoying the trout & biscuit breakfast, Pam told Bill she'd clean up if he wanted to get the Jeep ready to go. He finished unloading their stuff, or re-loading their valuables and his firearm.

"I'm gonna go wash up first, I smell like trout!"

He grabbed his ditty bag of personal effects to use by the riverside. Pam watched him, his back to her, and smiled when she saw him slip his fisherman's vest off and reach under the hem of his black t-shirt, pulling it over his head. He turned enough for her to see him more clearly, tossing the vest and shirt into his tent.

He turned to face her, and she maintained an attentive, but not obvious, expression on her face. She could control that, but she couldn't control the blush that again moved up her neck to her face. I'm going to spend the week blushing, at this rate, she thought. Damn, he sure looks good for his age! she couldn't help adding, smiling at him.

"I'm gonna shave, wash my hair and freshen up a bit, Counselor, if you don't mind waiting. I smell gross."

"Naw, don't mind at all, Robinson," she quipped, smirking at him. She wanted to ask, Mind if I watch? but thought that wouldn't be prudent. She was going to watch any way, of course.

"Oh, we're back into the game, huh?" He winked at her and turned to walk to the river, swinging the ditty bag back and forth, the muscles in his back and shoulders moving under his fair skin.

When he reached the shore, still in Pam's field of vision, Bill leaned over with his shaving kit and started to shave. He didn't need to undress, thank goodness, except what he'd already done. He was a professional observer, and noted the blush moving up her neck and face after he'd partly turned to face her. He was so caught up in thinking about what had been said, and unsaid, that morning that he yelped out loud as the razor blade cut into him.

"DAMN!" Pam heard from the riverside. She ran to Bill, concern on her face as she frowned up at him.

"Are you all right, Bill?"

"Yeah, nothin' a little cold water won't help. Cut myself."

She reached up to the little nick on his face; it wasn't long, but it looked deep as the blood continued to ooze from it. She took off her overshirt, revealing her black tank-top underneath, bent down and wet the end of one sleeve to dab at his face. He was so much taller than she, that she had to stretch up on tip-toes, partly leaning into his arm and shoulder for balance.

The closeness wasn't lost on either of them. Pam carefully blotted the blood away with the cold water, and as she waited for the bleeding to stop, she couldn't help but notice something.

"I've never noticed how much taller you are than Ralph, Bill."

"Um, yeah, a few inches, Counselor," he muttered, trying not to look at her. The black tanktop was intriguing him as much as his black t-shirt had caught Pam's attention the previous day and that morning. She was close enough that he could smell her: the rinse she used on her beautiful dark hair, the minty smell of her freshly-brushed teeth, the tang of sweat and earth off her glowing skin.

Bill was getting nervous, and unconsciously shifted his feet; when he moved, Pam lost her balance and pitched forward, catching him on both shoulders with her hands, the overshirt falling to the ground.

Bill caught her without thinking, so she wouldn't continue forward and plunge into the river, and the two stood there, eyes locked, motionless, for an eternity.

Pam looked expectantly up at Bill, thinking, Okay, this is it! Then she had another thought: Ralph. Before she could protest their intimate pose, Bill carefully pushed her standing, putting a comfortable gap between himself and this beautiful woman.

"Um, sorry, Counselor, my feet were starting to bother me, standing still like that and all."

"Uh, yeah, Bill, that's fine. I think the bleeding's stopped any way. You want to finish up here, and we'll get to town? I REALLY need to call Ralph!"

Bill understood her sentiments; it had come close, very very close... he had been fighting the instinct to simply pull that beautiful mouth to him, touch those warm pink lips, push that silky brunette hair back from those deep grey eyes... He shook himself, breaking out of that line of thought. Yes, she's got to talk to Ralph. And soon.

They stopped at the first gas station in town that they found, and Pam headed for the payphone.

"You do that, Pam, I'll grab us a coupla cokes!"

"Okay, Bill." She called the Operator and reversed the charges to her credit card, and the hotel clerk soon answered.

"Yes, Ralph Hinkley's room, please."

"One moment, miss." Pam heard the phone ringing, about ten times, when the hotel clerk came back to her. "I'm sorry, miss, but Mr. Hinkley doesn't seem to be in his room right now. May I take a message for you?"

"No, that's okay, I'm not at my usual phone. I'll check later today."

"Very good, miss. Goodbye."

Bill saw her frown as he returned to her. "Did you talk to Ralph already?"

"No, he wasn't in his room. The clerk let it ring about ten times."

"He's probably gone to breakfast before the morning panels begin, Pam, I wouldn't worry about it."

Pam looked at him, not saying anything. She hadn't missed his calling her "Pam" more and more often over the last two days.

"What's wrong?" Bill asked as they returned to the Jeep.

Well, she had told him to call her "Pam," hadn't she? Instead of "Scotty?"

"Nothing, Kell."

He pulled a map out of his back jeans pocket. "Here's a map of the town. You should be able to find the public buildings on that. The station clerk said there's a coffeehouse nearby, popular with the college crowd. If I'm going to find anyone opposing this land sale, I'll bet ya dollars to doughnuts it'll be there."

The two climbed into the Jeep, leaning close together to look over the map. "Here, Kell, is the coffeehouse. I'll drop you off and take the Jeep to the county office to do my part."

"Sounds good."

It was a short drive to Bill's drop-off point. Before he climbed out, Pam looked him over once more.

"You've got your gun on under that vest?"

"Of course."

"I wouldn't show it to anyone, if I were you. These people don't take too much to firearms."

He scowled, but nodded his head in agreement. Damned hippies, he thought; they're all for gun control, aren't they?

"Remember, ROBINSON, who you're dealing with. You don't like this crowd, but for this one time, you both have the same goal in mind: saving the land along the McKenzie. Keep telling yourself that, stay focused, don't get caught up in other politics, all right?"

"Yes, ma'am. Or Pam."

She reached forward abruptly, tousling his hair.

"Hey, whadja do that for?"

"You look too straight, even with jeans, t-shirt and fishing vest on. Maybe you shouldn't have shaved, either! You look more the part now: a scruffy guy who's just hitchhiked in from... um, where're you from?"

He winked at her and opened the door. "Seattle, where else?"

She laughed in appreciation. "Works for me! Hang about here, you'll see me when I get back."

"Will do! Thanks for the ride, lady!"

When Bill entered the coffee house, he saw that the young man at the counter had been watching him and Pam out of the big store window.

"Can I get you something, man?"

"Yeah, got mocha?"

"Sure, one shot or two?"

"Two."

"Right."

Bill, not knowing how mocha lattes were made, or indeed what "one shot or two" meant, watched the younger man go to an elaborate machine.

The young man looked up at Bill. "So just got into town, huh?"

"Yeah, how'd you know? Am I that obvious?"

The man laughed. "Naw, saw you climb out of that fancy red Jeep. Where ya from?"

"Seattle."

"Cool. Come to enjoy our lovely land, while we still have it?" he asked, the bitterness obvious in his voice.

"The big land development sale, you mean?"

"Yeah."

"That's why I'm here, to see what I can do to fight it."

"Right on, brother, we can use all the help we can get!"

Bill looked around the little restaurant, and saw a handful of young adults and a couple of older people, closer to his age. They were all quietly chatting, but it was obvious to Bill that the ones closer to him and the barista were covertly listening in.

Bill watched the barista pour the steamed milk, coffee shots and chocolate syrup into a big ceramic cup. He was surprised he didn't get it in a styrofoam or paper cup, then remembered where he was: Oregon. Most environmentally friendly state on the Pacific rim. If it wasn't to go, they'd automatically use washable ceramic. He didn't comment.

"That'll be $1.30."

Bill handed him two dollars, and told him to keep the change.

"Thanks, man!"

Bill sipped the delicious mocha a few times, loitering up by the counter still. No customers were waiting, so he thought he'd avail himself of the young man's information about any protests coming down the pike.

"So, dude, what can I do to help? Is there anyone getting together later? Well, not too late from what I understand."

"Before we get into that, what name should I call you? I'm Rabbit."

Bill stuck out his hand. "Robinson."

"Just Robinson?" the barista asked, returning Bill's handshake.

"Yep."

Rabbit looked him up and down, almost suspiciously. "Robinson, you ain't, um... a FED are you?"

"Why would you ask?"

"Don't know."

"I'm a spy, whadya think?"

The two laughed at the absurdity.

"No, seriously, man," Bill continued. "I'm here to FIGHT this land deal that the gov'ment is allowing to happen. Would a Fed do that?"

"I guess not, no."

"You were going to tell me how I can help?"

"Go talk to that dude over there," Rabbit said, pointing to a man who'd been listening in on their conversation. Rabbit raised his voice. "Airhead, this is Robinson, he wants to do what he can to help!"


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six.

Bill hung out with Rabbit and Airhead at the coffeehouse for the remainder of the morning, and a good part into the afternoon too, before Pam returned in the Jeep.

"That lady a friend of yours then, Robinson?" Airhead asked.

"Yeah, she rented a Jeep in Portland, knowing we'd be coming into rugged territory upriver here. She's from Seattle too."

"I meant to ask you earlier, what part of Seattle you from?" Rabbit asked, almost as if he were testing Bill.

Bill thought of the first neighborhood he remembered when he was in Seattle on a case with Carlisle a few years before: "Capitol Hill."

"Ah," Rabbit said knowingly, winking at Bill.

Huh? Bill wondered, but didn't say anything; he only replied with a smile.

Pam came in and saw the three men at the corner table.

"Hey, Robinson!" she said, looking curiously at the other two men.

"Hey, Pam. This is Rabbit and Airhead, we've been going over stuff about the land deal. Protest rally planned tomorrow."

"Cool," Pam said, smiling at the two men.

"Are you from Capitol Hill, too, Pam?" Rabbit asked. "Robinson said you two were, uh, FRIENDS!"

"Friends, huh?" Without warning, and out of the blue, Pam grabbed Bill, both of her hands behind his ears, and drew him into a long, deep kiss.

When Bill responded ardently, pulling her close, Rabbit shrugged and smirked at Airhead.

Pam pulled back, and tousled Bill's hair once more. "Friends, my ass, Robinson, what're you doing? Pretending I'm not your girlfriend?"

Bill was close to fainting, so overwhelmed by the kiss and Pam's subsequent teasing and joshing around. "Hey, what can I say?"

Before it got any more out of hand, Pam took Bill's big hand in her own and began dragging him to the exit. "Nice meeting you guys! We'll talk, tomorrow morning okay? Same place?"

"Same bat time, same bat channel!" Rabbit said, laughing as the two waved their final goodbyes for the afternoon.

Bill staggered behind Pam as she led him to the Jeep, and she practically slammed him up against the vehicle. Knowing the two guys in the coffeehouse were probably still watching, she leaned in close, as if snuggling to him, and whispered to him.

"Bill, do you know WHY I did that?"

He smiled raffishly down at her, "'Cause you want me and you know it?"

She laughed, "No, dummy! Do you know about Capitol Hill in Seattle?"

"I know it's real close to downtown, yeah."

"Bill, it's the GAY NEIGHBORHOOD in Seattle! When you told them that's where you're from, they thought you were GAY!"

"Holy CRAP!" Bill whispered, again almost fainting, this time with relief.

"I couldn't say anything, 'cause it would've been too obvious, so I had no choice but to kiss you and make that little scene. I figured you wouldn't mind, after all, to keep those two from thinking you're gay."

"God, Counselor, I don't know how to thank you!"

She ran her thumb over the mouth she'd recently kissed so passionately, wiping the residual of her lipgloss off it. "I'll, um... I'll think of something, Kell."

She stood straight and spied the payphone on the corner of the block. "How 'bout you drive back; I'm going to try Ralph again."

"All righty, I'll be here."

She repeated the call she did earlier that morning, with the same reply: Mr. Hinkley's not in, would you like to leave a message? She again chose not to, not having a regular phone to use. "I'll try again later this evening, when he's had a chance to return. Thank you."

"Well?" Bill asked as she returned to their Jeep.

"Nope, not in. He's keeping pretty busy it sounds like. I'm tempted to try tonight, at about 1:30 in the morning, to be sure I'll reach him."

"Aw, Counselor, don't worry your head about him. You and I, we'll, um... we'll be good boys and girls, okay?"

Pam touched her own mouth, remembering how kissing Bill so passionately had felt. If anything, it made her want him more, that expressive, soft mouth, those deep brown eyes... she wasn't going to go there. She HAD to talk to Ralph, and soon!

"Bill, what, uh... what do you want to do now?"

"Let's go grab something to eat, I'm starved! I've been nibbling on snacks all day in there, sucking down WAY too much caffeine too! I'm so jittery right now, I feel like I'm going to jump outta my skin!"

"You want to get some beer and burgers, and head back to the campsite? Beer should calm you down from the caffeine, and we won't have to drive anywhere later."

"Yeah, sounds like a scenario!"

The sun was nearing the hills when they arrived back at their campsite. All was in order, no vandals or thieves had ransacked the place. Bill got everything situated as before, rearranging the more valuable gear they'd kept in the safety of the Jeep.

"Here, it's a nice night, you want a fire any way? Feels about 80 still!"

"Of course, Kell, campouts always need fire! You get that, and I'll get the burgers, fries and beer set out. We'll have a starlight picnic."

Bill and Pam, each armed with a six-pack apiece, settled onto the log they'd shared the night before, in front of their tents. They laughed together at one another's dirty jokes, jostling each other more and more roughly and playfully as the beer began to hit their brains.

Pam got up to throw more wood on the fire, standing opposite the flame from where Bill was. He looked up at her, smiling and not hiding the fact, for a change, that he was admiring her. The red glow of the fire danced off her curves, enhancing the effect of her beautiful figure. The snug khaki shorts and black tanktop, combined with her smoothe skin, grey eyes and brunette hair, mesmerized him. The fire's light reflected as two sharp diamonds in her eyes, and twinkled when she smiled sweetly at him.

"What?" she asked.

"You, that's what." Bill shook himself, breaking out of the gaze he'd locked himself into. "Sorry, Davidson, shouldn't gawk at ya like that. It's the beer."

"You know, maybe 'long as the beer is flowing, you and I should talk."

"Maybe you're right, Counselor."

"Yes, keep calling me that."

"Not Pam, then? Not Scotty?"

"Bill, I don't KNOW!" She sat down roughly beside him, almost toppling over the back of the log. He pressed his hand on her bare thigh to balance her, and once she sat up straight, he left his hand where it was.

"Bill, what's HAPPENING between us? I can't believe this!"

Bill didn't answer at first; all he could register in his beer-soaked brain was that his hand was resting on this tanned, muscular and female thigh, and the owner of said thigh wasn't in too much of a hurry to remove it.

Pam's befuddled brain was trying to work out a multitude of feelings and impressions. She wasn't unaware that Bill's hand was resting on her thigh; part of her was reveling in the sensation, while another part felt obliged to fling his hand off of her. As a result, she was too overwhelmed to react either way. She had to think, she had to resolve all these feelings into a cognizant conversation. The beer certainly wasn't helping, as she thought it would.

"I... I don't know what I'm feeling, Bill. Yes, Ralph's my boyfriend, and we have fun together, but then he introduces me as his FRIEND to that Kathryn creature and his coworkers. But then again, I can't really bitch about that; I've done the same with him, told people he's my FRIEND, not my BOYfriend! Maybe he and I aren't as together as I thought we were. He made it clear he didn't want me to go to Vegas with him, where he's been so busy he doesn't seem to ever go back to his room. Now you and I are here together, alone, in the woods, and we're working together on a CASE, something of our own, no Ralph, no suit needed. WE'RE a team, Bill, you and me, in this, and I'm having a blast!"

She knew she was blathering, but for some reason couldn't stop. It was like she was free-flowing now, the beer relaxing her enough to remove any barriers she'd consciously erected soon after she'd become aware of this physical attraction she was feeling for her friend Bill Maxwell.

Bill gazed into the fire, hand still resting on thigh, barely listening to Pam's ramblings.

Neither spoke for a few minutes after Pam's dissertation wound down.

Bill finally broke the silence. "So, Davidson, you going to let me leave my hand on this thigh all night, or do something about it?"

"I don't mind it being there, Robinson."

"Again with the Robinson," Bill said, turning to look at her.

Pam stared at him, not saying a word. Bill didn't fidget as he would have if he'd been totally sober; in his current relaxed limbo, not really drunk but not really sober either, he just relaxed and let her gaze at him.

"Bill, it's really weird, but you DO look a LOT like him," Pam couldn't help pointing out.

"Yeah, I've had people tell me that, especially when the show was out in the mid-Sixties," he said, chuckling as he remembered people's comments. "I'd tell 'em, No, I'm in the FBI, I'm not a spy! Harlan thought it was funny as hell."

"I was only 10, 11 and 12 when that was out. Old enough to crush on some characters though, and he was the biggie. I can't believe I never noticed before how you resemble him. I'd play spy with my neighborhood friends after each week's episode, combining it with cops and robbers." She laughed, remembering the twilight games they'd play till the parents would call them all in. "I don't know what it's like from a pre-teen boy's point of view, but girls that age, well, are already fantasizing about stuff. Kelly was a big part of that, and this morning when you were talking to me, through my tent, it was coming through in my dream. You even SOUND like him, Bill!"

Bill shrugged. How could he reply to that, after all? He'd heard it all before. Then something began to seep through to his brain, something he was just now realizing: Wait a minute, I resemble this fantasy character of hers, that she's had since she was a pre-teen? He personally never saw the resemblance people claimed he had to this spy character, but he didn't mind the attention. After all, at the time, all the dames were going ga-ga over this tennis bum/spy, weren't they? If they wanted to say he looked like him, who was he to argue?

Without conscious thought, Bill's hand began to move along Pam's thigh, toward her knee; it paused there and returned to its previous position. He made the grand effort not to let it wander any further up: he told himself, There and no further. Or back to the knee. So he stroked it back to her knee, and continued the back and forth motion, reveling in the feel of the warm smoothe skin and strong muscles underneath.

"You play tennis yourself, don't you, Pam?" he asked quietly, watching his hand move back and forth. He'd pause at the "top," and give a little squeeze, then return back to the knee.

"Hmmm mmmm, how'd you tell?" she asked, watching his hand too as he turned a simple rub into a massage.

"Your thigh, it's so..." he couldn't continue, he was too enraptured by the motion of his hand over that tight tanned skin. Bill stood, a bit more steady on his feet than Pam had been earlier, and moved behind her, kneeling down so his head and shoulders were about even with hers. He put his big hands on her shoulders, and leaned forward, whispering, "How would you like a real massage?"

"Yes, Kell," she sighed, leaning her head back.

Picking up on her game, Bill continued talking to Pam from behind, letting her enjoy the illusion that it was her fantasy Kelly she was hearing and feeling, not Bill Maxwell.

Remembering the show, probably better than Pam herself, he started bringing up storylines he recalled, cities the two characters had gone to, adventures they'd been in. After an hour of this, interspersing breaks in the massage with beer, Bill finally had to get up and move.

"Ooh, Pam, I'm all stiff from leaning over you like that, on my knees! I think I need to find the latrine, any way."

Pam couldn't speak, and could barely move. She practically fell over backward off the log, toward her tent. While Bill was gone, she crept into the tent and crawled into her sleeping bag. Her semi-conscious state, from exhaustion and beer both, allowed her to dream of her spy, her tennis bum, the feel of his mouth so close to her ear as she thought it had been, the soothing-yet-rough voice hypnotizing her to relaxation.

Oh, he'd been so very very close. Had it been a dream? Reality? She remembered his hands on her, his strong slender fingers massaging the tightness out of her neck and shoulder muscles, the thumbs digging into her back, removing any remaining tension. In this altered state, she was having a hard time separating fantasy from reality. All she knew was that the warmth of Kelly's breath, the sound of his voice, had been there.

"Pam?" she heard Kelly say. "Are you all right, sweetheart?"

"Hmmm mmm, Kell, I'm fine!" she moaned, smiling. Within seconds, knowing her dream lover was nearby, she slipped completely into sleep.

Bill pulled the tent flap back, moving so the firelight shone in, to be sure Pam was truly okay. When he saw the soft, secret smile on her lovely face, he smiled in response. She was really digging that, he thought with pride. I may not be able to really touch her, but I can let her live the illusion.

He took the liberty of crawling into the tent with her, and he lay alongside her, his head propped up on his hand. He watched her sleep for a few moments, the soft glow of the fire reflecting off her wavy brunette hair. He leaned forward, almost touching his nose to that hair, and breathed in her fragrance. His motion must have seeped into her dream, because she turned to him and sighed, the smile never leaving her lips.

He gasped as she moved to face him, holding his breath, not wishing to break this moment. Her mouth, the same mouth that had kissed him so passionately earlier that day, was mere inches away. How easily it would be to simply lean forward and touch those lips again, but Bill knew he could not and would not take such liberties with his friend.

He could touch her in other ways, however, and he softly ran fingertips through that thick hair, brushing it back from her face. She stirred and even opened her eyes for a moment, catching his gaze, but Bill got the impression she wasn't truly awake. She's probably seeing Robinson, he thought reasonably. And he was right. In her dream, she was lying beside the handsome young spy, who posed as a tennis star in his travels around the globe. She saw the smirk on his lips, the cute little gap in his teeth, the beautiful brown eyes staring down at her adoringly.

"Hmmmm, Kelly?" she mumbled.

"Shhhh, I was just checking on you, Pam, to be sure you were okay."

"Hmmm, I'm okay."

Bill leaned forward one more time, planting a soft gentle kiss on Pam's forehead. "I'll let you sleep then, darlin'. Sweet dreams."

As Bill carefully crawled to the tent entrance, Pam mumbled once more, "They sure are."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven.

Bill and Pam crawled out of their respective tents at about the same time the following day, the early morning Sun beaming directly on them.

Neither spoke for a time. Bill automatically set to making the coffee, and Pam rummaged through their groceries, stored in the Jeep, for the pack of Danishes they'd bought the previous morning. To hell with fishing for breakfast, they'd both decided. They weren't QUITE hungover, but it was a close call.

"Here," Pam said, handing him her leftover coke. "It'll chase away the cobwebs, like my grandma used to say. It's still cold, from being in the Jeep all night."

"Thanks," Bill mumbled in appreciation, taking a long swig off it.

She took it from him and swigged it herself. Both sat quietly, not talking, until the coffee began sputtering, announcing it was finished.

"God, I love coffee," Pam muttered as she took her first sip.

"I had so much yesterday, I'm surprised I slept at all!" Bill told her.

Pam didn't say anything for a moment, then quietly asked, "Bill, um... did anything happen last night?"

"Anything?"

"Yeah, uh... you know, ANYthing?"

Bill smiled over his metal coffee mug. "No, sweetheart, nothin' at all. I gave you a good massage, that's all. I went to use the tree, came back and you'd crawled into bed. I climbed in behind you and lay beside you for a time, to be sure you were okay, gave you a little kiss good night on your forehead, and went back to my tent. That's all."

"Whew, okay. I should've known you'd be a gentleman, Bill! It's just that I, um... I had some really weird dreams!"

"Such as?"

Pam blushed, not being sure how much she should say. How much had she told Bill last night, about those pre-teen fantasies she'd have about her favorite TV character? Her memories were confusing; some seemed real, some seemed to be from her dreams. "I, uh...I can't really talk about it, Kel-- I mean, Bill."

Bill didn't miss her near-slip of the tongue, but chose not to point it out. Let her wonder, he thought, what was real and what wasn't.

"It's okay, Counselor, tell me or not."

"It's just that some memories from last night seem so REAL to me, yet you said all you did was what, give me a massage and kiss me on the forehead good night?"

"We talked a lot too, about your favorite 60's TV show."

Pam laughed out loud, "Oh, okay. So I DID talk to you about Kelly, right?"

"You sure did. So while I gave you a massage, I was talking to you about it, telling you some of the good parts and funny bits I remember. I figgered being older than you, I'd remember more."

"So no harm done, okay. C'mon, let's grab the coffee and Danishes, and head to town. You've got a protest march to join, and I've got to delve deeper into those public records. I was finding stuff that didn't quite jibe yesterday."

They got their valuables and other items they'd need for the day, secured them in the Jeep and climbed in. Pam took the driver's seat again.

"What kinda stuff, Pam?"

"Well, I won't bore you with the details. It's all very dry reading, but some of the dates and signatures, things like that, they're not adding up right. Wish I had my legal aide here to help me, but she wouldn't have time to get up here. This thing's going to wrap up soon, that's why the paper said, 'Is It Too Late?'"

"So you'll be doing that, while I'm at the protest? Wish I could help, but like I said, I'd be in deep doo-doo if I get caught."

"You sure? Don't you have the right to peacefully assemble and the freedom of speech too?"

"Yeah, but if this gets outta hand, I could be busted along with the rest of 'em, badge or not."

"Just make sure it doesn't."

Fortunately it didn't take long to get into town. Pam again dropped Bill at the coffeehouse, already crowded with protesters gathering for the scheduled march.

"God, Bill, if only your friends at the Bureau could see you now!"

"Funny, Davidson! We'll be around; follow the crowd if you need to find me!"

Bill watched her drive off, then went into the little restaurant. Airhead was at his table, as if he'd not left it the day before.

"Mocha, Robinson?" Rabbit asked from the counter.

"Yeah, thanks, man," Bill said, smiling first at the young man, then at the older Airhead. He hooked a chair to him with his foot and sat down.

"Airhead, I was wondering if we could clarify a few things."

"Sure, Robinson. What's up?"

"This march today, it's legit, right? Permits, the whole works?"

"Sure is, we've been doing it all by the book, so the Man has no reason to come in and start cracking skulls and lobbing tear gas. How come?"

Bill cleared his throat a moment, looking embarrassed. "Well, um, I've had some, uh... TIE-INS with the law before, if you know what I mean. Wanted to stay off their radar."

"I dig. When'd that happen?"

"UC, Berkeley, 69. Got kinda outta hand. Gave up the scene for a while, left my bong and my lovebeads behind. When I saw this going down, in the Seattle Times, I had to do something. My old man and I used to come fishin' up here when I was a kid, and I love this area and that river too much to let it go."

"Right on. How come you didn't tell me this yesterday?" Airhead asked, as Rabbit delivered Bill's mocha.

"Had to get a feel for you guys and what yer plannin', that's all, to be sure you were serious."

"Oh, we're very serious, Robinson!" Rabbit said.

"Good, then I should tell you somethin' else, somethin' you can't noise about, it's gotta stay on the QT."

The two men leaned in as Bill whispered, "My ladyfriend, Pam? She's an attorney, and she's on our side too."

"What?" Airhead exclaimed, not believing their good fortune.

"Shhhhh, shhhhh! She's at the public records building now, going over more of the documents on the whole deal. She told me this morning that there was something fishy going on, if you'll pardon the pun; something to do with dates, signatures, things like that. She didn't go into the whole legalese of it, but she's good, the best! If there's something wrong, she'll nail it on the head!"

"So she'll work on that while we're distracting the Man with our march?"

"Yeah, that's what she told me to do. She knows how to work these guys over for the information that's SUPPOSED to be available for public viewing. She'll know if they're giving her the runaround or not, she's aces."

"We haven't had the funds to hire a lawyer to look it over from OUR point of view, and we couldn't find anyone to do it free. Almost like they were afraid of what would come down on them or something. And she's doing this, free of charge?"

"She sure is! It's a cause that's very important to her, and to the law firm she works for. She told the senior partners where she'd be going this week, and they gave her the green light to do it. So it's all legit from her end."

"Wow," was all Airhead and Rabbit could say. "That is SO COOL, Robinson, thanks!"

Within a couple of hours, the restaurant's clientele had poured out into the street. Bill was keeping an eye on it all, making sure everyone was behaving and they weren't crowding the small building. That's all we need, the fire department showing up to shut it down! But Airhead had appointed sergeants-at-arms to keep the crowd managed, and everyone was in high spirits (and not THAT kind of "high," Bill was happy to note), jockeying for position with their protest signs.

"You've got 'em well handled, Airhead, I'm impressed!"

The three of them had gone outside, the Summer heat beating down on them and the dusty main road through town.

"We've stressed to them repeatedly how important it is that everyone be on their best behavior, so the government doesn't have to come in and bust us up."

Airhead checked his watch, then climbed up on an old battered Ford pickup truck. He put his fingers to his mouth, whistling, to get the crowd's attention.

"All right, folks, settle down. You all know where you're supposed to go, right?" The nods from the crowd assured him they knew what to do. "Okay, I just learned we've got some GREAT outside help, working in the background on this. I can't give you any details right now, but trust me: it's awesome news for our cause and for our forests and river. My man Robinson here, he's going to be marching with Rabbit and me. He's down here from Seattle..." A smattering of applause, apparently other Seattleites, interrupted him. "Yes, yes, it's gratifying to know others around the region and the country are here to fight for our pristine forests and river. Now, let's be sure we're all behaving ourselves, right? We're Americans, we have the RIGHT to assemble, we have the RIGHT to free speech, and we're going to use it, RIGHT?"

The crowd cheered enthusiastically, some yelling "RIGHT!" "Hell yeah!" "America!" "USA USA USA!"

"And remember one more thing: It's the right to PEACEFULLY assemble; let's KEEP IT THAT WAY, all RIGHT? Let's not give the MAN any reason to bust us, or bust us up!"

The crowd answered with claps, cheers, hoots and hollers. Bill was impressed. Sure, most of them were hippies, but Airhead had brought up some great points about his beloved America. These guys DO love our country, he thought. It startled him that after all was said and done, he had more in common with hippies than he thought. A famous line came to mind: I may not agree with what you say, but I'll fight to the death for your right to say it! These people, mostly kids to Bill, were simply exercising their Constitutional rights. Nothin' wrong with that, he thought as he took up the position behind Rabbit and Airhead.

Pam's comment earlier swept through Bill's mind, as he joined the throng, accepting a sign from a young woman: If only the folks at the Bureau could see me now!

Pam spent the morning poring over the documents she'd FINALLY managed to extract from the surly clerks in the hot County Records Office. They'd tried their best to intimidate her into leaving, offering curt answers to her inquiries. She wouldn't be dissuaded, of course; she'd eat clerks like this for lunch at the Los Angeles County Records Office. She felt it prudent not to point that out to them, however. She was not barred in the State of Oregon, and was there as a private citizen of the United States. She, along with any other citizen, had the right to review these documents, and the clerks knew this.

They reluctantly pointed her to a big empty table on which she could spread all of the long, boring paperwork. Pam again wished her legal aide could have joined them, but changed that desire to a test of her own abilities and experience in such a role. She'd served as a legal aide herself, of course, during her Law externship. She just had to dredge up all that knowledge, tenacity and patience from those earlier days of her career.

The sound emerging from the main drag through town penetrated her concentration. She looked out the window, and saw Airhead standing on an old Ford, addressing the crowd. Squinting against the sun's glare, she saw Bill and Rabbit near the man, who appeared to be the leader of this march. She smiled when she saw the expression on Bill's face: he was actually enjoying this moment! Pam was afraid that for all Bill's desire to save the river and surrounding forests, he'd let that antipathy to hippies leak through. From what she could see on his face, nothing could be further from the truth. She saw him smile at the protesters as they cheered and hollered; she was surprised as he blended in with the crowd, behind Airhead and alongside Rabbit. When she saw him take up a protest sign, handed to him by a pretty young woman, Pam wished she had a camera to capture the moment.

Naw, he'd kill me if I did, she realized. No public record of this, is what he'd want.

As the crowd moved down the street, out of sight, Pam turned back to the paperwork, and something almost leaped off the page into her mind.

"Oh my God," she whispered, as she compared the information with something she'd read earlier. The little break of gazing outside had cleared her mind, and this new datum fairly lit up to her.

Ruffling through the documents, she pulled the key ones out, comparing additional information. She had it: she was going to nail these bastards to the wall!

She took the relevant documents, that had the damning information in them, and fastened them with a paperclip. She blended them in with the remainder, and went back to the Clerk's desk.

"Do you have a copier I can use?"

"It'll cost ya," the man said acerbically.

"No problem, I've got a pocketful of change."

Not saying a word, he pointed to the alcove holding the various office machines for public use.

"Thank you," Pam smiled cheerily at him. He frowned at her retreating back as she began to pick through the key documents. He couldn't discern, from his point of view, what had interested her so much or which documents she was copying, and which she was keeping back.

When she finished, she put her copies into her briefcase, and returned to the Clerk's desk with the originals. She set them in the appropriate basket, marked "Filing," and turned to the man once more.

"May I please speak to your supervisor?"

"Why?" he asked.

"I needed to ask him or her something."

The Clerk buzzed the intercom, and a few minutes later an older man came out.

"You needed to see me, miss?"

"Yes, I was wondering if I could use your office phone."

The man pointed down the road, toward the payphone she'd used earlier to try to call Ralph. "There's a payphone, knock yourself out."

"Oh, well, I needed quiet. I'll be happy to reverse the charges to my credit card, Mr. uh..." she leaned forward, looking at his nametag, "Timothy Broderick."

He was startled with the close examination of his name.

"Might I ask what this is about, miss?"

"Certainly, why don't you join me? This might concern you, too, and your oh-so-courteous Clerk here."

The light, jovial expression on Pam's face suddenly disappeared, and she put on her "hard as nails attorney" face. "You're not going to enjoy this, Mr. Broderick. Please, lead the way."

The man, Pam and the desk Clerk retreated to the main inner office. Pam picked up the phone, dialed the Operator and gave her the credit card information to reverse the charges. Once that was set up, Pam said, "Yes, please give me the office of the Oregon State Attorney General."

Over the next couple of hours, Bill found himself enjoying the march more and more. He was still scanning the crowd, still looking for any trouble, it being so much a part of his nature and training, and he was pleased to see everyone was behaving themselves. It was getting scorchingly hot, even for Bill (who was used to L.A.), and it was obvious people were getting tired. Some would drop out for a time, then regroup to join the main body of the march.

The crowd, several hundred-strong by now, was approaching a bend in the main road out of Walterville, that went to one of the forests the Federal government wanted to sell off. As Airhead, Bill and Rabbit led their merry and boisterous band around the bend, they stopped dead in their tracks. There before them were about twenty State and County patrol cars.

"Whoa, whoa!" Airhead said, and the crowd fairly bounced back, the ones in front pushing back to stop the ones still coming. Soon everyone was still.

A State trooper approached, hand on his gun. He seemed to sense that Airhead, Rabbit and Bill were the primary leaders of the march, and went to them.

Bill was wearing his own firearm, but didn't move a muscle toward it, as his instinct told him to. His right hand twitched, as if saying, PLEASE? He wasn't going to say a word; he knew they'd done nothing wrong. Maybe he was going to get a small taste of what police brutality looked like to the average American this day.

Airhead stepped forward, looking the trooper right in the eye, not shying away. "Is there a problem, Officer?"

"Yeah, there's a problem. Lemme see your permit."

Airhead had it ready in his hand, and handed it to the officer. The trooper looked it over, scowling, as if he didn't believe it was legitimate. He handed it back to Airhead, and said, "It's time you went home, time to end this."

Before Airhead could object, the trooper, obviously in charge of the cops blocking their way, began to motion to his men and women to come forward. Airhead raised his voice above the din that was beginning, as the protesters realized the cops were trying to break them up.

"Hold it, man, you've got no RIGHT!" Rabbit yelled at a cop approaching him and Airhead. Bill was standing to the side of the two younger men, watching it all, taking in every detail of the incident that he suspected was about to blossom into a all-out war.

"SHUT UP!" one female cop yelled, reaching for her nightstick.

"NO, we're perfectly legit here!" Rabbit yelled. "We've got a permit that says till EIGHT O'CLOCK TONIGHT! Tell her, Airhead!"

"That's right, look at that, Officer!" Airhead said loudly, pointing out the time on the permit.

The words were coming fast and furious now; Bill was getting increasingly nervous as the cops were nervously touching their nightsticks and firearms, the crowd starting to surge forward angrily. He had to do something, and he had to do it. Now.

Raising his voice, and he knew he could be VERY loud when he wanted to, he stepped forward, putting his hand into his pocket to retrieve his FBI badge and ID.

"Hold it, hold it!" he yelled. When the cop near him saw him reach into his pocket, she swung her nightstick at him. Bill reacted instantly and ducked.

"GUN, PARTNER!" she screeched, drawing the attention of five officers around her.

Bill froze, hands in the air, realizing his stupid mistake. He turned into a statue as five guns turned on him.

"All right, that was dumb." He leaned his left hip forward, indicating his pocket and holster. "There, left back pocket, my BADGE and FBI ID! And on the left shoulder is my FIREARM!"

The female officer's male partner stepped forward while she kept her firearm trained on Bill, and retrieved badge and pistol. Once he showed the officer in charge, who nodded, he returned it all to Bill.

"What the hell is the FBI doing here at a protest march?"

"I'm HERE as a private citizen, that's what! It was all going perfectly fine till you goons showed up and started harrassing these people! They're RIGHT, you've got no right to stop this, and if you do, I'll be sure to talk to YOUR superiors and my own at the Bureau. I've been with this march since before it began, and everything has been by the book! Are you here to deny these citizens their Constitutional rights?"

"They'd better not be," Bill heard behind him. Startled, he turned to see Pam Davidson pushing her way through the crowd.

"Oh yeah, ladies and gentlemen of the State of Oregon Patrol, this is my friend and attorney, Pam Davidson. She'll be sure you'll be doing your duty and allowing these fine men and women to exercise their rights to peacefully assemble and speech, won't you, Davidson?"

"I certainly will be!" Pam looked closely at the officer in charge. "Officer, you might want to contact your office. Something incredible has just been called in to the State Attorney General; you might want to hear it from your supervisors."

The older officer had the feeling things were falling apart: not from the protesters end, but from his own. He motioned for his men and women to fall back, and the crowd cheered at the State patrol's retreat.

All this time, Airhead and Rabbit were stunned into silence, amazed that something on the brink of disaster had been turned around so abruptly by the emergence of this Federal agent, who'd actually been WORKING with them, as a regular guy!

After the police cars had retreated, clearing the road for the march to continue, Pam quickly asked Airhead to keep the people where they were for a moment, so they could talk.

She, Bill, Rabbit and Airhead went into a huddle. The people nearby tried crowding in, to hear what was going on.

"WHAT?" they heard Airhead exclaim. "WE WON?"

A spontaneous cheer went up and around, weaving through the crowd as more and more people reported what their leader had exclaimed.

Pam explained quickly what happened, so Airhead could spread the news. All the crowd cared about was that they'd won, they did it!

"I'm going to write a statement, Airhead, for the news. The papers and news crews are already on their way here from Portland. When I dredged up this information, and called the Attorney General, I thought that Mr. Broderick was going to have a coronary! It's all been publically disclosed, courtesy of two snoops from Los Angeles."

Airhead turned to Bill. "FBI? From Los Angeles? What's your real name, Robinson?"

"I hadn't planned on coming forward at all, Airhead. I really am here in the capacity of a private citizen, but when those goons began pushing Rabbit here around, and you, I saw it all coming crashing down. Had to do SOMETHING, didn't I?"

"So you're not going to tell me?"

"I really can't. If you wanna, call me Kelly."

Airhead looked at Bill, startled, as he made the connection: Kelly Robinson? He leaned in to look closer. "Well I will be damned," he said, and he busted up laughing. "My GOD, you DO look like him!"

That sufficed to distract Airhead from any further probing questions, and Bill led Pam away from the crowd, which was beginning to wander back to town. The marchers, young and old alike, started singing folk songs, chanting poems and protests, and having a helluva good time. Their forests and river had been saved. At least for now.

(A/N: Okay, I'm not a legal aide, I'm not an attorney. I hope I did the "legal" aspect of this in a feasible manner. If not, forgive me; I think I got the basic gist across.)


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight.

WALTERVILLE, OREGON

The town of Walterville, Oregon, was alive that Thursday night, with protesters-turned-celebrants, newspaper and television broadcast crews, townfolk and State police troopers, who'd been ordered to return to the little town to help maintain order. It was almost like a mini-Mardi Gras, the way everyone was carrying on, bringing the partying out into the dusty streets.

It was a very warm Summer evening, and the restaurants and bars throughout the town had wisely chosen to stay open, to rake in the extra business.

Pam, Bill, Rabbit and Airhead took refuge in Rabbit's coffeehouse, where it had all begun.

Pam's eyes lit with delight when Bill returned from the counter, where Rabbit had made the two mocha lattes, on the house. "Naw, Robinson, I insisit, you two were what helped save those beautiful old trees! It's the least we can do, especially for you, Pam!"

The two sat silently sipping what was becoming their favorite hot beverage. After they'd had a chance to suck a little down, Bill turned to Airhead.

"Sorry we had to be so hush-hush, Airhead. This was a first for me, actually; just ask the Counselor here. But the McKenzie River is extremely important to me. I hope to retire up here some day!"

"You two hanging around much longer, now that we've got this resolved?"

"We're heading back to Portland early Saturday morning, so we're hoping to get some fishin' in all day tomorrow."

Airhead stood, offering his hand to Bill. Bill stood and returned the younger man's firm grip.

"Well, Robinson, if I don't see you before then, I wanted to thank you, and Pam too, for all your help! Like they say, you got here just in the nick of time!"

Pam stood, and all four exchanged farewells. Pam and Bill waved one last time to their new friends Airhead and Rabbit, offered a goodbye to the rest of the coffeehouse's customers, and stepped out into the warm night.

They turned together to face the partiers down the road, in front of a lively tavern, and shook their heads, smiling.

"These folks sure can party, can't they?" Bill asked.

"Sure can. Here, you go to the Jeep, I'm going to call Ralph, now that it's later." She handed Bill the keys and went to the phonebooth.

Pam was getting all-too-familiar with the "phoning Las Vegas" routine, and was soon connected to Ralph's room. After the third ring, she was about to give up in anger and frustration when she heard the other end answer.

She was shocked to NOT hear Ralph's voice, but the voice of a young woman... a woman who seemed to be very much out of breath, panting into the phone.

"Hello?" A pause. "Hello?" the woman's voice queried again breathlessly.

Pam's first impulse, after she slammed the handset into its cradle several times, was to scream in frustration. On the fifth try, she'd convinced the handset to stay in place, and she ran out of the booth, screaming at the top of her lungs. She figured now would be a good time, with all the activity down the street drowning her out.

The nails of her right hand, from slamming the phone repeatedly, were broken and one was bleeding. Her throat was raw from screaming, and she stomped back to the Jeep, her heavy hiking boots kicking up clouds of dust.

Bill was startled out of a light doze from pounding on the hood of the Jeep.

When he saw it was Pam assaulting the truck she'd rented, Bill ran out of the vehicle and around to her, grabbing her arms and dragging her away from the Jeep.

"PAM, what's wrong? PAM! CALM DOWN, what's wrong?"

He'd never EVER seen Pam Davidson in such a rage; she was almost scaring him with her fury.

Chest heaving, panting for breath, Pam managed to get out in an almost even tone of voice: "A WOMAN ANSWERED THE PHONE, BILL!"

"WHAT?"

"Yes, at ONE-THIRTY IN THE FUCKING MORNING!"

Bill drew her roughly to him, holding her against his shoulder as she panted and heaved against him. "Pam, Pam, honey, calm down, you've got to calm down, sweetheart!"

She was shaking all over now, her knees growing weak as she grasped at Bill's supporting arms, opening and closing her hands in frustration. The pain in her right hand was getting more and more noticeable, and she started sobbing against Bill from both physical pain and emotional anguish.

After a moment, the images cropping up in her mind of what was going on in Las Vegas, she pounded her fists into Bill's chest. He withstood it, only shifting a bit so she wouldn't hit his holstered gun. He knew she had to do this, so she could work it out of her system and come off the adrenalin and fury.

Bill continued to hold her tightly, not giving her room to struggle against him or fall down. He muttered soothing words into her ear that was so close to his mouth, telling her it was going to be all right, that they'd find a way to work it out.

When he felt her finally stop shaking against him, he pulled back enough to look down at her, to see if she'd come out of her rage.

"You all right, hon?" he asked quietly.

She looked up into his eyes, the concern and compassion he was feeling for her obvious in his expressive face. She clung to him, wrapping her arms around his torso, leaning her head softly against his chest. He was tall enough that she could do that, taller than Ralph she noted again. Bill's arms were comforting, his soft deep voice soothing, and all she wanted to do at that moment was rest against his tall frame.

"You're a good friend, Bill," she mumbled into his t-shirt. She moved her hands under the vest he wore, and pressed her fingertips into his strong back. She gasped in pain when her right hand pushed down too hard, the nailbeds protesting the pressure. "I think I hurt myself."

"I think you did too. Didja wanna go back to the campsite?"

"Lemme stay here a bit longer, Bill. It feels so good, I don't wanna move," she was mumbling into him, her speech almost incoherent with her cheek and mouth pressed against his chest.

Bill certainly didn't mind. He didn't think it a good idea to tell her what HE thought of the whole situation: a woman, answering the phone at this hour? He was appalled, but remained quiet. It was time to focus on Pam, who was his friend, regardless of what Ralph may or may not be doing with some broad in Vegas.

"Stay there as long as you wanna, darlin'," he cooed to her.

LAS VEGAS, NEVADA

"All right, g'night everybody!" Ralph gasped out to his co-workers as they went to their respective hotel rooms up and down the corridor.

Ralph opened his door, and led Kathryn in. The whole group of them had just run to the hotel from the casino they'd all hit that night, caught unexpectedly by a summer rainstorm.

Ralph said breathlessly to the panting Kathryn, "Why don't you go fix yourself a drink, I've gotta get outta these wet clothes!"

He threw down his soaking wet briefcase and jacket, and ran for the bathroom. As soon as the door shut, he heard the phone ring.

"Can you grab that, Kathryn? I'll be out in a sec!" Ralph yelled from the other room.

"Hello?" Kathryn asked, panting for breath and falling onto the bed. She heard people partying in the background. "Hello?" she said louder, still trying to catch her breath. I'm so out of shape! she thought.

All she heard in reply was the phone at the other end slamming down, a click then a dial tone.

Ralph came out, dressed in a fluffy white robe, and towelling his curly blond hair dry. "Who was it?"

Kathryn turned to face him, reclining back on his bed. She looked him up and down and smiled at what she was seeing. "Oh, I don't know, some drunk dialed the wrong number. I heard a party going on in the background."

Ralph shook his head and chuckled. "Las Vegas, go figure."

He reached into the closet and drew out another white robe. Throwing it at her, he said, "Here, why don't you get out of those wet clothes?"


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine.

Pam finally separated herself from clinging to Bill, and she looked up at him one more time. She ran her thumb along his lower lip, smiling and remembering the kiss she'd laid on him the day before. He smirked at her and lightly kissed the stroking digit.

He said around the thumb, "All better? For now, at least?"

She pulled her hand back and sighed. "For now, yeah. Let's go back to our campsite."

Bill put his arm around her, making sure she was steady on her feet. Pam looked down the road to the revelers, and said, "Wanna grab a bottle of wine, long as places are opened still?"

"Long as it ain't any of that fru-fru stuff you like. Or maybe we can grab a six-pack to split. I don't think it's a good idea for you to get drunk, the state you're in."

Pam stopped and considered his suggestion. "I think you're right, Bill. Let's just split a six-pack then."

He helped her to the passenger side of the Jeep and said, "Hang on a sec, I'll grab that and a coupla cokes for the morning."

He was soon back, beverages in hand, and he set it all in back with their gear.

Pam was silent through most of the ride to their campsite. Bill would look at her every so often, to see if she was crying, but she had a blank expression on her face. Her head lolled back on the seat and she was gazing out the window.

When he turned down the final dirt road to their spot, he asked, "You okay, hon?"

Not moving her head, Pam said, "Just thinking hard is all."

"I know," Bill said softly.

They remained quiet as they got their stuff from the Jeep, and Bill motioned to the fire ring. "I'll get a fire going, why don't you do whatever, go freshen up or something. Splash cold water on your face, wash that cut nail. Did you want me to take care of it?"

"I think I can manage. The cold water should be okay."

She took a flashlight from her backpack and examined her hand with it. It felt worse than it looked, she was glad to see. She found her way to the riverside while Bill gathered fallen wood debris in the immediate vicinity.

"Don't fall in, Davidson!" he called to her.

Bill was reclined back on their log, his vest and holster removed. He'd kicked off his hiking boots as well, removed his socks and had his feet propped up on a big stone he'd pulled from the ring.

He jumped when he heard Pam come up behind him, he'd been so mesmerized by the snapping and crackling fire.

"OH, don't DO that, Davidson!" he laughed, catching himself from falling backward.

"Your feet bothering you?" she asked, sitting down next to him.

"Naw," he started. He wiggled his long toes, then admitted, "Okay, yeah, a bit. Couldn't wait to get those boots off! How's the hand?"

He reached toward her, indicating that she should show him. The skin felt cold and clammy from her washing it in the river water.

"Counselor, you're freezing! Here, lemme warm that hand up."

He pulled her to him and tucked her hands and arms under him, wrapping them around his torso as she'd held him earlier. They sat that way for a while, on the log, turned so they could hug one another close.

"Best way to warm up," he said softly into the ear by his mouth. Her thick silky hair surrounded him like a cloud, and he drank in the fragrance once more. "Your hair smells good, Davidson."

She had her face buried at the juncture of his shoulder and neck, and he felt her draw in a long breath. "You smell good, too, Bill."

She felt his chuckle as he moved back enough to look into her eyes. "Listen to us, sniffing each other all over!"

Pam laughed too, realizing how they'd sounded.

She reached her hand up, touching his own thick soft hair, and playfully pulled him down to her, taking a dramatic and drawn-out breath. "Ahhh, see, your hair smells good too, Bill! What is it with men and smelling women's hair?"

"Dunno, we just like it, and with hair like YOURS, I mean, come ON, what guy could resist?"

"You like my hair?"

"Good God, Davidson, that's the very first thing I noticed about you when we met! Long, gorgeous, wavy, shiny, silky brunette..."

She interrupted him with another laugh. "Okay, okay, I get it!"

Pam reached again, as if to pull him down for another sniff, but she surprised Bill: she pulled him down so she could touch his lips with her own. Not the dramatic and deep kiss she'd laid on him in front of Airhead and Rabbit; this one was tender and delicate, and for some reason Bill couldn't understand, far more intimate.

Without thought, he put his big hands behind Pam's ears, pushing the flowing mass of hair back, relishing both the feel of her full lips on him and the cascade of silk tickling his hands. When her tongue probed, demanding entrance, Bill thought he was going to lose it.

What am I DOING? a thought came to him, and he guiltily pulled away, releasing Pam.

"Pam, what was that? I... I can't DO this, Pam!"

"Yes, you can, Bill."

He turned to her. Pam was amazed, again, at how expressive Bill's face could be. She saw both desire and pleading in his eyes, and doubt. How does he do that? she wondered. He wants me, but he also has the need to be loyal to his best friend.

Pam wanted to climb onto Bill's lap, facing him, and lose herself in those brown eyes and that mouth she'd been more and more fascinated by this week, but didn't want to push Bill too far.

"Bill, listen to me. After that little scene earlier, and thinking, I've come to a conclusion. At least for now."

"What's that?"

"Far as I'm concerned, at least till we get back to L.A., I'm available. Like my uncle used to say, I'm free, white and over 21, I can do what I want. I'm not married, you're not married, nothing in the world stopping this."

Bill stared at Pam, alternately from her big grey eyes to her mouth and back again. He was thinking furiously about it all, how very much he wanted her, how he would be betraying his best friend. A best friend who, to all appearances, was enjoying a dalliance of his own in Sin City, Nevada, Bill told himself logically. Pam was right: she was free to choose, not formally attached to anyone, and neither was he. Ralph didn't even know of the little trip to Oregon this week. They could do this and be back to California, Ralph none the wiser.

Live for the moment, Bill told himself, thinking furiously on working this out so he and Pam COULD be together, guilt-free. She certainly didn't appear guilty! She'd resolved to herself that this is what she wanted; she was obviously in her right frame of mind, not freaking as she'd been doing earlier. Bill would never have taken advantage of her, if she'd been in that state. That would've been too wrong. But now? For the moment? Why not?

"Pam, you know I'm not into music too much, right?"

She laughed, wondering where that came from. "Of course."

"For some reason, this song's cropped up in my head."

"Which one?"

"'We've got tonight, who needs tomorrow, we've got tonight, babe, why don't you stay?'"

"EXACTLY, Bill, I didn't know you had it in you!"

"Well, Seger isn't bad, I can actually stand his music."

"Yet another aspect of Bill Maxwell I didn't know about." Pam thought a moment more about the song. "You know, that song is perfect for our situation!"

Pam gave in to the desire she'd felt earlier, and moved to climb onto Bill's lap, straddling his thighs, propping her knees on both sides of him on the log. She pulled him toward her, nestling his face against her chest, and he wrapped his arms over her lower back, pulling her closer.

He pushed back enough to look up, her face in a shadow, the firelight glowing behind her. The yellow light reflecting off her dark brown hair framed her, and he could tell her grey eyes were dilated with desire.

"God, Pam, you're so beautiful!" he muttered, locking that look into his memory forever, the feel of her covering him, his big hands on her lower back, barely over her round derriere.

Pam took the moment to examine Bill more closely as well, running her thumb softly over his brow, along the smoothe skin of his cheeks, down to his neck and throat. She brushed her thumb under his brown eyes, which were reflecting the glow of the fire so it looked like two little globes, turning into flecks of gold in the iris.

"Oh, man, Bill," Pam muttered, and she leaned down, drawing him into another passionate kiss. This time, when her tongue probed his mouth, he gave in and returned the kiss, having resolved they would enjoy this time together till they returned to their lives in Los Angeles. As his hands moved over her, up and down, squeezing and teasing her, he stopped abruptly.

"Pam, I..." he started, but didn't continue.

"Hmmm?"

"How, um... how far? How much?"

She bent down, enjoying the feel of his hands on her lower back, and began nibbling his neck. She muttered into his warm skin, "Whatever you want, Bill, because I intend on taking and doing whatever I want!"

He gasped before he could reply, from the sharp nip she'd given him. "That's... that's okay by me, darlin', completely okay!"

Having received the green light from Pam, Bill had to forcibly hold himself back somewhat, or the night would end far too soon for them both. He worked his hands into the waist of her shorts, and moved them up her bare back till he hit her bra strap. He pulled her to him, his mouth teasing and nibbling the warm skin of her throat, continuing down to the middle of her chest. With a quick flick, the bra was unfastened.

Pam saved him the trouble, and leaned back to reach behind her and finish removing it, leaving her tank-top and shorts on. Bill looked up at her, saw her affirming smile, and drew his hands to the front of her, still under the little shirt. He slowly lifted it over her head, his eyes going wide at the glorious vision of her.

"Pam..." he whispered quietly as he drew her to him, his mouth exploring in ways he'd never imagined he'd ever get to do on this utterly beautiful woman. Her answering gasps as his mouth, lips and tongue taunted and teased, nibbled and lapped at her, told him she was losing herself in it all.

A particularly painful nip from Bill on her sensitive flesh made Pam gasp and laugh, and she pulled away from him for a moment. "You're way overdressed, Maxwell," she pointed out.

He leaned back a little, giving her room to draw his own t-shirt off him. When she did, she ran her hands over his bared shoulders, down his chest to his little tummy then up again.

"I love your neck," she mumbled, returning to the earlier nibbling and snuggling, her wet lips and tongue working a path over his skin, left to right and back again.

They took turns exploring one another, hands, fingers, tongues and lips, even teeth, as they each realized they enjoyed giving and receiving the little lovebites.

The heat of the moment, the crackling fire and the sultry, warm evening was getting to them, and they felt like they'd burst into flame.

"Whew," Pam said, sitting back on Bill's long legs. His gaze moved down to her bare torso, and he smiled in response.

"'Whew' is right, Davidson," he said with appreciation.

She looked beyond him and the tent behind him to the river.

"Can we swim in that?"

He looked too, and said, "We could get a coupla flashlights and go down to that sandy beach the eagles landed on before. Current's pretty mild there."

She stood and looked down at Bill, holding out her hand for him. "Wanna skinnydip?"

He took her hand and stood alongside her. With them both barefoot, Bill almost towered over Pam, and she loved it. "Damn, Bill!"

"What?"

"With our shoes off, you really loom over me, don't you?"

He turned her so she faced the fire, and pulled her up against him. He leaned down, brushing her hair aside with his left hand while his right hand explored her. He kissed and bit at the back of her neck, eliciting little moans and gasps from her.

"I sure do, lady. Feel free to climb right up me if you wanna!"

She pushed into him, and he felt her shake with quiet laughter. "Oh, I'll climb you all right, Maxwell! If what I'm feeling is any indication."

He couldn't hold back, and he almost fell back onto the log from laughing. He was glad they were cutting up; the moment had been getting way too serious, so early on in their little play!

Pam left him there and went to retrieve two flashlights and her thick camping blanket.

While she got those things, Bill went to the Jeep for the cokes he'd bought earlier with the beer.

"Will we be okay going down there barefoot?" Pam asked after they'd met back at the stone ring.

"Sure, we're tough, Pioneer stock, remember? This is nothin'!"

Bill took Pam's hand, and guided her to the path that followed along the water's edge. They were both still so warm from the loveplay and fire, that the idea of dipping into that cool river water spurred them on.

"Ah, this is the spot!" He shined the light on the water's edge, and noted it was a gentle slope toward the middle of the river, not abrupt. This was one area marked on the map that showed the gentler side of the McKenzie, not white-water that was so popular with kayakers. "We should be okay up here. We're both good swimmers, shouldn't be a problem."

Bill looked above at the full Moon, shining like a beacon. "Here, why don't you turn the flashlights off, there's plenty of moonlight to see by. The flashlights'll ruin our night vision."

She turned to the lights, which were set by the blanket she'd laid out, and switched them off. She waited a few moments for her eyes to adjust, and saw the silhouette of Bill near the water's edge. She walked slowly to him, pleased to feel with her feet that the beach was relatively free of debris.

He reached his hands out to her, and instead of taking her by the arms or shoulders, he groped her, making her laugh in response.

"Hey, what can I say, Davidson? What guy wouldn't grab ya there, given half a chance?"

"At least you said it was my HAIR you first noticed about me when we met!"

"True, true," he said, pulling her close to nuzzle her ear and neck.

"Oh, are we starting that again? Robinson?"

"Whatever you want, babe, I'll be Bill for you, or Kelly, doesn't matter. Remember, we've got tonight."

He brought up a good point, and when she moved back from him slightly, looking into the dark spots that were his eyes, feeling his mouth with her fingertips, hearing his voice, she was startled as before on the resemblance.

"It really IS weird, Bill! But Kelly's not real, you are. Very real, and very close, and I'm so diggin' it, like the hippies would say."

"Hmmmm," was all he could say against the warm fragrance of her hair, and he pulled her against him, walking her slowly to the edge of the water. When their feet hit the icey wetness, they both yelped and jumped back to the sand, laughing.

"Maybe skinny-dippins' not such a great idea, Davidson," Bill pointed out as they ran to the blanket. They sat down on it and covered their feet, drying them and trying to warm up.

"Amazing how chilled you can get on a warm night, when your feet are FREEZING!" Pam said.

She looked down at Bill, who'd laid flat on his back. He reached up to her, brushing the hair from her face, and she ran her hand along his hairline.

No words, no laughter filled the night now. Their gazes locked, their eyes taking in the pale moonlight, Bill put his long arm around Pam's shoulder, drawing her on top of him, and as she rested on him, her warm mouth by his ear, she whispered, "Who needs tomorrow?"

"Why don't you stay?" was all he could say.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten.

They didn't linger too long at the riverside after they'd made love. Their exertions and loveplay wore them out, and neither had the energy to do much more than creep back to their campsite, the dying light of the campfire guiding their way.

Bill retrieved his sleeping bag, and they zippered the two together in Pam's tent, making an ersatz double-bed. Pam crawled in ahead of him, he joined her, snuggling her to him, and they were almost instantly asleep.

The next morning, with the early Sun beating down on them, the heat of their entwined bodies awoke Bill. He lay still, looking at Pam, wondering how she'd feel about last night.

The sense of guilt started working its way into him once again, in this glaring morning light, and he felt an almost overwhelming urge to move, to get away from her.

As if she sensed this, Bill saw Pam open her eyes, and she smiled sweetly at him, touching his mouth with her fingertips. "Shhhh, Bill. I know what you're thinking," she said by way of greeting.

"Yes, you probably do," he said quietly, kissing her fingers good morning.

"I'd already been feeling a bit of antipathy about Ralph and me BEFORE that phone call, Bill. The call just sort of sealed it for me. He and I have some things to discuss if something's going to work, but for now, far as I'm concerned, it's anyone's game."

Bill looped his arm under Pam, snuggling her to him, as he said, "Yeah, I know. I got thinking too, that he might be doing this himself in Vegas as we speak. I didn't wanna say anything to you last night about what I thought of the whole scenario, didn't wanna add fuel to your ire. You were pretty ballistic last night."

"I was, wasn't I?"

"I'm glad I wasn't on the receiving end of that tirade, you almost scared me, Davidson!"

"Wow, the great Bill Maxwell, scared?" she laughed, and he joined her.

"How 'bout I get the coffee started, Davidson, while you get ready to fish."

He started to sit up, and she pulled him back. She didn't want to kiss him, her breath felt so bad, but she wanted to feel him above her. Resting most of his bodyweight on his hands, he moved over her.

When she shifted her legs, granting him immediate access, she felt him laugh against her neck.

"You don't waste much time, do you, Davidson?"

When the two emerged from Pam's tent an hour later, the day was already proving to be going toward scorchingly hot, as it was at the march the day before.

Taking fresh towels and other bathing items, they walked hand-in-hand, nude, to the water's edge.

"I hope nobody's around," Pam said nervously.

"Naw, don't worry 'bout it. Miles away to the next campsite. This is one of the rugged ones with no amenities; most people choose to go to the more civilized ones."

This time, they welcomed the cool chill of the water, after practically baking in Pam's tent moments before. They took turns lathering one another up, washing each other's hair, and rinsing off.

"I'll do the shaving myself, Davidson, I don't trust your sore right hand." He took it to him to examine once again. "How's it feel?"

"It hurts every so often, deep inside. I think I may've strained the muscles or tendons or something, I don't remember entirely what I did."

"You were in quite a rage, I'll be surprised if the phone survived at all."

"Do you still want to fish this morning, Bill?"

"Well, let's see what the day holds. We could fish, eat what we catch, come back and wash up again and then, well..."

He gave her a rascally smirk, that he'd done before when he wanted to cajole her into something, and she laughed. "I'm hoping to do a LOT of 'well...' before we have to head back to Portland tomorrow! Don't forget we've got those beers too."

"Lemme finish up here, then. Why don't you get the beer and set it on a rope, in the water, so it'll stay cooled? Looks like it's going to be a scorcher today. We've gotta get to fishin' soon before it's TOO hot and late!"

Bill's little agenda for their Friday worked out well. They fished well into the afternoon, each catching a netful, and feasted on fresh trout, campfire beans and biscuits. They washed this rugged meal down with beer cooled in the river. When they'd finished, leaning back and patting their very full bellies, Bill said, "How 'bout we let that settle for a while, Pam? Now that the tent is in the shade, I vote we take a little siesta before we go wash up."

Pam crinkled her nose from the overwhelming fish smell, and their own sweaty, dirty bodies. "Hard to believe we bathed this morning, isn't it?"

Bill had to agree. "Here, let's just get a blanket, use another for a pillow, and sack out here, not in the tent. It'll smell like fish if we go in there! And I'm too full and beat to go wash up."

They set the blankets up to sleep on, the shade shielding them from the hot Sun. A mild breeze arose from the river, and the two sighed in relief. Pam reached under her purple tank-top and drew it off, much to Bill's delight. He didn't mind at all that she wore a bathing suit top underneath; she was so beautiful, he could admire her anytime, anywhere.

"Here, take your shirt off too, Maxwell, I'm feeling rather exposed here."

"Sure, Davidson," he said and complied.

He lifted her arm so she could snuggle underneath, as they'd lain the night before. They discovered it was still too warm to lie thus, so she moved away. Pam turned so her back was to Bill, and he rested his hand comfortably on her hip, and they were soon both snoring under the dappled sunlight.

Pam's movements under Bill's hand woke him up.

"You awake, darlin'?" he asked.

She sat up suddenly, wide awake and smiling at him. "Sure am! C'mon, let's get washed up, we've got THINGS to do, Maxwell!"

Her enthusiasm made him laugh, and he was soon chasing after her. As she ran for the water, she threw her shorts off, revealing the bottom portion of her bathing suit. He stopped long enough to remove his jeans, wearing boxers underneath, and joined her at the river's edge.

They both looked in, wondering if they could jump or dive.

"Here, I know this river better than you do, Pam, let me go in first."

"Works for me, I don't know what's in there!"

"Lots of fish, waitin' to get ya!"

He sat on the bank then tentatively stepped in. He was confident it would be all right for swimming; he'd gone into this river before for fishing, with waders on, not too far away at his favorite spot. The bottom was fairly rocky, but nothing unusual. No hidden undertows or currents during these Summer months, when there wasn't much rain up-river.

He was waist-deep when he turned back to retrieve Pam.

"It's all right, Pam, rocky bottom, some sand, some river grass. Nothing gross or surprising. We can walk up to our beach over yonder where it's sandier, if you want."

He got close enough to take her hand, and led her into the water. She didn't hesitate, and pulled him down for a long kiss.

"Hmmm, yeah, let's go down there, where we were going to skinny-dip last night. We've still got to do that while we can!" she said after she released him.

They got to the spot they'd been at the night before, and didn't waste much time throwing their clothes onto the sandy beach. Bill and Pam enjoyed exploring and pleasing one another in the light of day, but the water was still too icey to do much more. Bill led Pam to the rumpled sand, evidence of their early-morning lovemaking, and drew her on top of him.

"Let's do it this way, 'cause you sure don't want SAND in there, do you?" Bill adroitly pointed out, making Pam laugh. Her laughter soon turned to mewling gasps, and the sounds of their lovemaking rang through the canopy of trees.

As careful as they were, they were still fairly covered with sand, on their arms and legs at least, by the time they'd finished. Pam led Bill this time, to the water. "Let's walk back, and we can wash and rinse off as we go."

They returned to their blankets that they'd napped on earlier, lay down and dozed, taking the chance to dry and warm up in the light of the setting sun.

Pam and Bill stayed together the rest of the evening, into the warm night, alternately making love, eating and chatting, or dozing.

Saturday morning came, and it was finally time to end this adventure to Oregon. They couldn't believe how much had happened! First helping to save the forests surrounding the McKenzie River, then discovering one another in this new way. It was time to end it, time to resume their lives and careers in Los Angeles.

And as Bill couldn't help thinking, time to deal with Ralph.

He said as much to Pam, and she put her hand to his mouth, shushing him. "Bill, you've done nothing wrong! Like I said, as far as I'm concerned, I'm available. At least this week. When we get back, RALPH and I will work this out, you don't need to say anything or do anything. Maybe what we had this week was a one-time thing, maybe not. All I know is I've had a GREAT time with you, both working on this land deal, and making love to you over and over."

"I think I had a hand in that, too, Davidson," he said, smirking at her. "As I recall, I made love to you a few times!"

"I'm losing track, the way we were going at it like bunnies, Maxwell. Speaking of which, before we pack and clean up around here, you wanna, you know? One more time?"

"Hell yeah, you don't have to ask me twice!"

With all their gear loaded into the Jeep, Pam and Bill took one more survey of their campsite, from the ring of stones for the campfire down to the river's edge. Both were experienced campers, and knew the cardinal rule that you always leave the site better than you found it. They picked up little bits of debris that others had left behind, threw them into the truck's litter bag, and looked over the now-pristine site.

"Perfect, Bill!"

"Yep. Better than we found it."

They turned to look at one another, and moved together for one last, lingering kiss, while they still could.

Pam ran her thumb along Bill's lower lip, sighing almost sadly.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" he asked.

"Just wondering what L.A.'s going to hold, once we get back."

"You said you're going to talk to Ralph, right?"

Bill paused. Pam could tell he was nervous. "What, Bill?"

"Are you, um... going to mention this week to him?"

"I thought our week-long adventure in Oregon could be just between you and me, Bill. Completely. I'm not going to say a word about it. Ever."

"Whew, thanks! I know you said you're considering yourself available and all, and I shouldn't feel guilty, but still... I think the less said, the better."

By the time they got to the airport in Portland, and Pam returned her rented Jeep, the two had fallen back into their usual dynamic of camaraderie and friendly teasing, jostling each other for the window seat on the plane to L.A. They weren't anxious to forget what had transpired that week, but leaving their little riverside Paradise, returning to the "real world," helped them get back to their usual friendly ways.

Bill retrieved his car from long-term parking at LAX, and returned to baggage claim to get Pam and their luggage. They were laughing and chatting, in good spirits, when they arrived at Pam's house.

"When's Ralph supposed to be back, Pam?"

She checked her watch. "Two hours. Good thing we got in ahead of him, huh? That would've been a scene, all three of us showing up at LAX at the same time!"

Bill laughed, envisioning that scenario. "You're right."

"Let me put all my stuff away, and we can go to his place, check on it before he returns. He'll be calling me there any way, to come get him, since he left the wagon with me."

Bill helped her with her luggage and fishing gear while she got her backpack. They soon had it all returned to the appropriate spaces, and went to his car.

When they got to Ralph's, Pam let them in with her key. She held it at the foyer, staring down at it, wondering if she was going to still have possession of it by the evening.

"You all right, Pam?" Bill asked as he got them each a coke from Ralph's fridge.

"I guess," she finally said. "Now that we're here, in Ralph's place, I guess I'm feeling kind of weird."

"Oh, now you do, great! Pam, what happened, happened. When Ralph gets back, you two can air things out, and I'm sure it'll work out for the best for both of you."

They waited about an hour, then the call from LAX and Ralph came.

"Hey, Ralph. We'll be there in a bit, down at baggage claim. Yes, Bill's here, did you want to talk to him? Hang on."

She silently handed the phone to Bill.

"Hey, pard," Bill said.

"Hey, pard," Ralph's happy voice echoed. "How'd the week go, any juicy scenarios that I missed?"

Bill paused, looking at Pam and smiled softly. "Naw, Ralph, no juicy scenarios. L.A. was quiet as a church all week, like they knew you was gone!"

Fin.


End file.
